Star Trek: Divergence
by keiranhalcyon2010
Summary: In the 22nd Century, after a year of exploration in deep space Enterprise is damaged, near adrift. Their distress call is answered by those who would bring about a new era for Earth and the Galaxy.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – Unending**

Travelling through subspace in a seemingly endless swirling blue and purple tunnel generated by itself, the two hundred and eighty meter, blocky, utilitarian Earth Starship _Odyssey_, cruised at a one point six light years every second by means of its Intergalactic Hyperdrive. The ship, having none of the elegance or finesse that other races seemed to incorporate in their ship designs, nor the teeth to compete in a stand-up battle, could boast as now being the most advanced in terms of power generation and stealth. After all an enemy couldn't hit what it couldn't find.

The _Odyssey_ was powered by a Zero Point Energy Module, the most powerful energy source known, created by the Alterans – the Gatebuilders, or as they were commonly known, the Ancients, in addition to her standard Fusion core. She could also know render herself invisible and completely undetectable to any form of scanning device in existence, with a technique learned just a few months earlier.

The ship and its crew, was on a long journey, which despite their seemingly unbelievable speed, had taken just under three weeks, and was now finally nearing its end. It was understandable though, one did not travel to another Galaxy a few million light years away on a whim. The time spent meant however, that the crew needed to find something to occupy their time. _Odyssey_, whilst operating at optimum efficiency with a crew, could be piloted by a single person…with the amount of automation it had.

In one part of the ship, that was seeing frequent use, were two men fighting each other with training staffs. Both were tall, well built, one more so than the other, and sparring with well practiced proficiency. The differences in the two combatants were glaring though; the bigger one, dark skinned, and showing experience in such fighting, against the fair haired and skinned opponent, who made up for his lack of experience with enthusiasm and determination. They were sparring on a cushioned mat, surrounded by gym equipment of all kinds.

Finally, they paused in their spar, their staffs locked together, an impasse.

"This vessel does not _have_ a pool, Colonel Mitchell," rumbled the dark skinned man with the golden symbol of a stylized snake on his forehead.

"I was talking about the gambling variety, Teal'C," replied the dark blonde haired, Air Force Lieutenant Colonel.

Both men were dressed in green BDU pants and black tank top shirts, and Teal'C suddenly spotted a gap in the other's defenses, lashed out with his staff against Cameron 'Cam' Mitchell's back.

Cam winced and stepped away, Teal'C retreating to allow his team mate to recover from the hard blow.

"I do not wish to speculate," Teal'C said evenly.

"He only said it was something important."

"Indeed. But I would not risk a wager." Teal'C abruptly swung at Cam's head, who ducked with a yell, and their bout resumed.

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Dr Daniel Jackson, walked thoughtfully down one of _Odyssey_'s corridors, in his hand reading a book as he walked, whilst keeping an eye out for crew members so as to not bump into them. He was a seemingly ordinary man, average build, with thin framed glasses, and short dark brown hair. If, however, anyone back on Earth was to know of his accomplishments, Daniel would be nothing short of an instant celebrity, he already was famous amongst the community of the Stargate Program…as the person who had provided the final puzzle piece to unlocking the famed instant transportation device for Earth. The consequences to Earth, and the nearby Galaxies of that feat, was not lost on him, yet he kept his humility firmly…showing to anyone with the eyes to see that despite his intelligence, that he had an amazing character.

The far reaching consequences of his achievement spoke for themselves though. The way to the Stars opened for Humanity. An entire Galaxy delivered from the parasitic Goa'uld domination, a new star nation formed by the formerly enslaved Jaffa, and countless humans on planets across the Galaxy free to determine their own destinies. In another Galaxy, the race that had defeated the Ancients was a ruin of their former selves, embroiled in a civil war. Daniel would look forward to the day when the Wraith was no longer a threat.

Yet he also felt a heavy irrational guilt. He had two years ago in eagerness to find something new to explore, managed to discover a secret beneath Glastonbury Tor in England. A vast treasure filled with gold, artefacts and more importantly, Alteran technology. One of which was a Long Range Alteran Com device, and in their eagerness to possibly talk to an Alteran race that was still somewhere among the stars, they stumbled upon an enemy that made the Goa'uld look cuddly.

The Ori. A contemporary race to the Alteran's, who had also ascended into beings of pure energy, except the Ori were corrupted by greed for power, power that they sapped from the lower planes of existence from all sentient beings that worshipped them. Daniel had unknowingly let the cat out of the bag to the Ori about sentient life in the Milky Way, and the result was a near unstoppable crusading Ori army marching across the Galaxy, forcing the newly free humans and Jaffa to worship the Ori or die.

Daniel sighed in sadness. Earth and its allies had done their best to clean up the mess. Daniel himself had launched the weapon capable of killing Ascended beings to the Ori Galaxy, and he had seemingly been successful, but it still didn't mean that Ori's fanatic followers would stop as their 'gods' weren't exactly around anymore to tell them. He shook his head to clear it and walked up to the Mess hall door and it opened up.

"Surprise!"

The room beyond was packed with crew members, surrounded by balloons, streamers, and on table a cake with sparkling candles burning on it. Standing on another table, wearing a party hat, was someone who most, humorously considered the 'Bane of Daniel'.

The attractive dark haired woman, dressed in black BDU's, with a face that while beautiful had a perpetual mischievous look smiled brilliantly at him. The rest of the jumpsuited Air Force crew laughed, pushing the balloons around and directed similar thousand watt smiles at Daniel.

Daniel only smiled mildly in return, not phased by the 'surprise' at all.

"It's not my birthday." Seeing that he was not going to get the quiet space to read his book, he turned on his heel and swiftly walked down the corridor, and to his irritation was promptly followed by his 'Bane'. Vala Mal Doran was called as such, because of her 'accidental' and purposeful antics that had at every turn prevented Daniel from getting to the City of Atlantis, in the Pegasus Galaxy – where Earth had an outpost within the Alteran Capital City – which was actually just a gigantic ship masquerading as city.

It had taken just over two years and numerous failed attempts before Daniel had finally set foot inside Atlantis. A place that was in Cam's words 'Daniel Disney Land'.

"Hey! We made a weird cat pinada thingy." Vala complained, catching up to him. This illustrated her other characteristic that drove Daniel up the walls in frustration. Though he couldn't really blame her for not knowing Earth culture – as she was technically an 'alien human' – she derived great satisfaction from using those very cultural mores for personal amusement. It also ranked right up there with her sexual innuendo and her ability for obfuscation.

Whenever he was tempted to snap at her, he would forcefully calm down and remind himself – _She's a teammate, a former host to the Goa'uld Quetesh, a rogue, a thief. But all her circumstances in life, that molded her into what she was, were forced on her. She was selected from her homeworld because of the _curse_ of beauty to become a host, and then when the Tok'ra captured her and removed Quetesh, she had been cast about on the tides of a chaotic galaxy and had to learn to do whatever it took to survive._

Calmed down, Daniel turned to face her. "I told you to bring something to amuse yourself. I didn't mean me or the crew."

"But they won't believe that it's my birthday…again." She complained with a near pout – it was an occasional childlike moment like this that made her…disturbingly adorable.

"Not my problem." Daniel said shortly and hoping to get some distance from her before he could succumb to her latest scheme in entertainment.

"Being stuck on this ship is _worse_ than being stuck at the SGC. I-I-I tell you, the last time I was this bored, I took hostages!"

She was referring to the time when she had hijacked Earth's first starship _Prometheus_, and intended to use it to make a trade with the criminal Lucian Alliance syndicate. It was her first circumvention of Daniel's attempt to get to Atlantis, since the ship had been on its way to Pegasus to determine the fate of the Atlantis Expedition, who had at the time, not reported back to Earth yet.

"I was there." He called and swiftly vanished down another corridor, leaving her still pouting.

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The nerve center of the _Odyssey_ was located on the dorsal side of the main body of the ship, where it met with the large flat upper platform of the starship, which served as a massive plate of extra armor to protect the vital engineering areas of the ship underneath, both port and starboard hangar decks, and mounted the huge quantities of offensive rail gun turrets and sensor dishes. It looked over the forward thick neck of the ship which held the sixteen fore VLS missile silos for firing the ship's arsenal of naquadah enhanced nuclear warheads.

The Bridge was a design compromise of sorts. Its position selected because many of the Air Force brass had flown the venerable B52 bomber and the human necessity to want to look over the battlefield…or in this case, battlespace through forward facing forcefield enhanced windows. Its interior on the other hand was pure military functionality of dark and light grays.

A central, not too comfortable chair, set between the Helm and Operations Station, intended for the Commander of the ship, dominated the central area. To the left and right of the fore windows, were Science and Weapons Consoles, respectively. Whilst on the left wall was a large LCD screen with a tiny keyboard mounted in a pedestal, which would allow for visual communication and tactical battlespace displays to be seen by the crew.

The current Commander of the ship, only for the duration of this specific mission, was none other than the Commander of Stargate Command, fifty two year old Major General Hank Landry. He was responsible for overseeing the operations of twenty SG teams, and participating in diplomatic relations with other worlds. He was a straight talker, never one for beating about the bush and was a relatively small man, slightly overweight, well styled dark brown hair in the first stages of receding, but no one who knew him ever thought he was a pushover…you didn't make it to Major General in the US Air Force by being a pansy.

He walked onto the Bridge, followed by Air Force Colonel Samantha Carter. A woman with an intellect that anyone would give an arm and a leg for, and was near singularly responsible for the scientific advances that allowed Earth to field ships like _Odyssey_. Her numerous official degrees and doctorates in Astrophysics, was simply the tip of the iceberg. The blonde haired 'Sam' as she was called by her close friends, could probably have won the Nobel Prize a few times over with all the advances she had made to Earth's science.

She along, with Daniel and Teal'C were part of the original pioneering SG1 team over ten years ago, literally a name feared and revered across the Galaxy. Sam was in standard BDUs, but for the occasion, Hank Landry had decided to don his formal Air Force blues. The newer members of the elite team, Cam and Vala, in addition to the old, strode onto the Bridge.

"Major?" Hank prompted the _Odyssey_'s Ops Officer, as he sat down in the big chair.

Major Marks, one of the ship's veterans, despite being only in his late thirties, promptly reported knowing exactly what the General wanted. "We're approaching the coordinates, sir."

"Drop us out," ordered Hank.

The endless blue tunnel of hyperspace shifted slightly, distorting until abruptly the _Odyssey _squirted out of a hyperspace window, decelerating an insane amount of relative velocity in an instant thanks to the ship's inertial dampening systems. Marks smoothly guided the ship into a stable orbit over the bright planet that was their destination on this journey.

"We're being hailed." Marks reported tapping on his console's touchscreen and its surrounding buttons. "The Asgard are requesting permission to beam aboard."

"Granted."

Barely a few moments later a musical ringing and a flash of white light on the empty forward area of the Bridge deposited a very familiar Asgard to those of SG1. The Asgard, a diminutive race, with large bulbous heads to house a very large and smart brain, thin arms, legs, and tiny gray asexual body – since they were essentially a race of clones – were a stalwart, if somewhat distant ally of Earth. The power of the Asgard had been all that stood between a defenseless Earth and Goa'uld reprisal for years – via the Protected Planets Treaty.

Since the demise of the Goa'uld System Lords, the Treaty was pretty much only technically in effect, and the Asgard had shared a number of technological advances with Earth – remote Beaming transport, Shields, Sensors and more significantly Intergalactic Hyperdrive, all of which were part of _Odyssey_.

Now standing in the Bridge was…

"Greetings and welcome to the Asgard homeworld, Orilla."

"Thor!" Sam grinned happily and stepped forward. Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet and member of its High Council, had saved SG1 on numerous occasions, and been saved more so in turn by SG1. You couldn't sneeze at doing that, and a strong friendship and alliance had been developed.

"Hello, Colonel Carter. It is good to see you." Thor droned in his characteristic Asgard inflected voice.

Vala, not having much experience with Asgard, in a whisper asked Daniel. "Out of curiosity, how can you tell the difference?" All Asgard looked the same to humans, though anyone observant enough could spot little differences between individual Asgard, there was one thing that always remained unique.

"The voice," he replied shortly.

"It's good to see you too, Thor. This is General Landry, Colonel Mitchell and Vala." Sam gestured to each in turn.

"Greetings." Thor bowed his big head slightly.

"So, Thor, how you been? Haven't heard from you in a while." Daniel commented, trying to get the purpose of their long journey going.

"I am sorry. I have been otherwise occupied. As mentioned in our communication, the High Council wishes to meet with you, to explain in greater detail, but there is not much time. General, with your permission, a number of Asgard are prepared to beam aboard immediately to begin installing various technological upgrades to this ship."

Cam whispered to Teal'C. "I hope its ray guns; I've got ray guns in the pool."

"What is it you're planning on giving us?" Hank said, wondering what the Asgard had up their sleeve this time.

"Everything we have…and know."

"By that, you mean…" Vala's eyes widened.

"Everything. All our most current technology. All our knowledge." Thor's tone was near reverent.

The entire Bridge was shocked into silence.

"Sorry, we're just a little stunned. I mean, why are you doing this? You've always resisted in the past. You always said we weren't ready." Daniel hastily explained trying to catch his breath and steady his mind on the implications. The Asgard had been a space faring race for a just short of a few million years, not as long as the Ancients, but nothing to take lightly…to have that knowledge base at Earth's disposal…in addition to the Alteran Database in Atlantis…

"Indeed," Thor nodded. "Many Asgard still believe that."

"So what's changed?" Cam asked bluntly.

"As a race, we are dying. Very soon, we will all be gone."

Another shocked silence settled.

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The week that followed was a time of blistering work and change for the crew of _Odyssey_ who were working alongside Asgard technicians that were crawling over every inch of the ship and turning it into something completely different. The general outward hull and appearance of the ship would be the same, but within…

The first thing to go had been the relatively 'primitive' Fusion core (according to Asgard standards) and replaced with two state-of-the-art Neutrino Ion Generators and its accompanying power distribution system, that had been used in the latest _O'Neill_ Class Asgard Battlecruisers. Combined with the Zero Point Module, this gave the ship an unheard of power generation profile, which had all sort of knock on effects.

The Shields of _Odyssey_ now had triple its previous damage threshold. The Hyperdrive would reach a speed of eleven and a half light years per second. The journey back to Earth could be done in just over three days!

Weapon array emitters for a special system (especially when it came to Ori motherships) were installed in every firing arc, so the ship could lash out in a full 360 degrees by 360 degrees in an instant. The Asgard also overhauled the Earth's ship standard weapons with their technology. Rail guns could now fire at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light, instead of just at two kilometers per second. With the sheer kinetic energy of the rail round (never mind its naquadah/potassium explosive potential) it could wear down any Goa'uld type shield and perhaps even with enough time the famed impenetrable Ori shields.

The missiles on _Odyssey_ had their solid rocket motors removed and replaced with a form of gravitic propulsion, in addition to a tiny force field emitter – this effectively made the VLS weapons almost impossible to intercept by removing the two weaknesses the enhanced nukes had, slow propulsion and fragility. The targeting software had also been improved to be adaptive, and would steer the missile to avoid any obstacles in its path.

Finally, the computer systems were totally overhauled, as they would carry the sum knowledge of the Asgard within them. The central processor or 'Core' was located in the Engineering command deck of _Odyssey_.

A large Asgard style neo-Nordic workstation had been added to the deck, and Sam was sitting in front of it, fiddling with its touch controls and jewels, next to her was Thor as he explained its workings.

"The Asgard computer core is equipped with its own power source that will not infringe on your ship's ZPM or the NI Generators. However, when the upgrades are complete, the core will be fully integrated into all the ship's systems."

Sam sighed and turned to face the small alien. "There must be something more you can do."

"I assure you, we are providing you with all the latest Asgard technology, as well as a knowledge base, including our entire recorded history." Thor said insistently, cocking his head at her.

"That's not what I was talking about," Sam said, feeling her eyes begin to moisten.

Thor saw the display of emotion and understood. "Everything that can be done has been done. The final attempt to solve our physiological degeneration has left each of us with a rapidly progressing disease."

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The Odyssey Briefing room was room modeled on the SGC version in Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. The room had a rectangular table seemingly molded right out of the floor, with various high tech functions to it, and on one wall was another large LCD display, and defaulted to show the Odyssey's ship crest. To one side was a set of windows that looked out onto the Asgard homeworld.

SG1 minus Sam, listened to Daniel and General Landry talking about their conversations with the various Asgard of the High Council.

"It really wasn't an option for them. They made the choice to extend their life through science generations ago. Took any natural physiological evolution necessary for ascension out of the equation." Daniel shook his head sadly.

"They're planning on ending their lives before the degeneration they're suffering from goes too far." Hank said grimly.

"Mass suicide," Cam's tone was flat. He clearly didn't approve, but he could see where the Asgard were coming from. There had been brief moments in his own physical rehab after getting shot down in the Battle of the Antarctic against the Goa'uld Anubis – that he had considered it – when the pain was just too much…but the Asgard were staring death in the face either way and were going out on their terms.

"They don't want any of their knowledge and technology falling into the wrong hands." Daniel in a way wished that the Ancients had had foresight to do the same; the Goa'uld would then still be nothing more than moronic parasites swimming in the waters of their ancestral homeworld.

"And they want us to witness the event." Hank explained.

"So, everything they've installed on this ship…" mused Teal'C becoming silent as he was moved by the enormity of it all.

"Is going to be their legacy," nodded Daniel somberly.

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In the Engine Control Deck, Sam looked at the large schematic of the new and improved Odyssey, displayed on a large Asgard holograph screen.

"If you like, you'll be able to interface with the core using a holographic representation of me, or any other Asgard on record in the knowledge base." Thor continued.

"I'm sorry, but that won't just be the same," Sam shook her head, emotionally.

"I have been working on this for better part of a year, Colonel Carter," Thor intoned looking somewhat hurt.

"And we appreciate it, really!"

"Many on the Council did not believe we should be imparting such advancements."

"Well, I promise we will do our best not to let you down." Sam vowed with intent.

"You are the Fifth Race." Thor said, referring to the Asgard belief that the people of Earth would become the Fifth Great Race of the cosmos – the others being the Alterans, Asgard, Nox and Furlings – of which only the Nox were still left, but were content to stay pacifist and hidden. "Your role is clear. If there is any hope in preserving the future, it lies with you and your people."

"No pressure, huh?" Sam asked rhetorically.

"You have earned my respect and my friendship."

"Well, the feeling is mutual," Sam was openly crying now and wiping away silent tears.

"Please do not be sad. The end of my people has been a long time coming. We have made too many irreversible mistakes in our development. Hopefully, you can learn something from it. My only regret is that our physical weakness has left us incapable of helping you further."

Sam could do only one thing, and carefully hugged Thor…words were useless in this situation…

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**Odyssey Bridge**

Alarm klaxons wailed throughout the ship, the signal for General Quarters. General Landry and SG1 rushed into the Bridge moments later from the adjoining Briefing Room. Hank sat down in the big chair and calmly awaited Major Marks.

"Sir, three Ori motherships have just dropped out of hyperspace and are approaching the planet."

The _Odyssey_ was abruptly hit by a main gun discharge from one of the Ori ships that had just entered range. An Ori ship was a one thousand one hundred meter long behemoth, and had been a specter of death to Earth, Jaffa and the other free races in the Galaxy, ever since the Battle of P3Y-299. It was capable of destroying a Jaffa Ha'tak class ship with a single blast from the main cannon, a dish like weapon mounted on the front of the ship. Earth and Asgard ships fared little better, able to take three or four shots, before the shields collapsed. The Earth ship _Korolev_ was destroyed in that battle. It also mounted pulse weapons on its perimeter that was designed for point defense, but could also destroy Ha'taks with enough consecutive hits. It carried five hundred Ori space superiority fighter craft that was used in planetary assaults. And if that wasn't bad enough it had the capability of carrying thousands of Ori soldiers and followers for use in their crusade.

Many on Earth referred disparagingly to the ships as 'toilet bowls of death'. As their design resembled a bowl-shape from a forward view, but from above looked oval in shape, with a large ring, that glowed with an eerie white light, and two hull segments ran back to meet with the ship's engines.

The difference now, was that instead of critically draining the shields from the hit, the Odyssey's defenses held initially.

Hank tapped on the intercom mounted on his chair's armrest. "Colonel Carter, this is the Bridge, we have three contacts. Ori motherships bearing down."

'_Sir, the Hyperdrive is still offline. Diverting power to shields.__'_ There was a pause. '_Sir, the Asgard has just disembarked. It'll take a few minutes to get the Hyperdrive back on line._'

"Full sub-light, get us clear of the planet." Hank ordered intently to Marks, knowing what was coming.

The _Odyssey_ abruptly banked, breaking orbit smoothly and accelerated to its full relativistic speed of seventy five thousand kilometers per second. The action caused the next Ori beams to miss completely. Two of the ships headed toward Orilla, clearing trying to invade the planet, but were heading unknowingly to their own deaths.

The third gave chase to the Odyssey, sending beams of destruction chasing after it.

"Shields are down to eighty three percent." Marks reported calmly, putting the ship through as many evasive maneuvers as he could without compromising their speed in getting clear of Orilla.

This was another Earth system that had been upgraded, using gravitic pulses instead of standard RCS thrusters, the _Odyssey_ could pull some pretty impressive stunts at high speed now.

"How the hell did they find us?" queried Cam rhetorically, holding onto the seat of the helm station, to keep himself steady as another blast rocked the ship. "Some reason we're not jumping to hyperspace?" He asked the question Marks could really answer.

"Carter's working on it." General Landry said as he stared at the tactical screen, and the scrolling distance ranges. The Ori ship pursuing them was matching their sublight speed and keeping that bloody beam weapon in range.

"Sir! Sensors are detecting a massive energy buildup from the planet." Marks snapped quickly.

"Everyone hold on tight!" Hank barked into the intercom, steeling himself in his chair.

_Odyssey_ and the Ori ship were by then just under a million kilometers away from the planet, as numerous massive detonations rocked it's surface, fracturing the crust and mantle of Orilla in a catastrophic cascade of destruction until reaching the crescendo of a massive explosion that obliterated everything. The planet broke apart into massive chunks and the two Ori ships attempting to invade were simply vaporized like two dead leaves in a firestorm.

The shockwave of the explosion emanated in an ever expanding sphere and reached both fleeing vessels still engaging in a death dance with each other. It washed over the Ori ship, flaring its shields and damaging it, but the _Odyssey_ was not to escape unscathed either.

"Shields are down to fifty percent," Marks grimaced.

"Colonel!" Hank prompted into the intercom with urgency.

"_Sir, the hyperdrive is now online, but we have to get clear of the radiation caused by the explosion before we can make the jump safely."_

"How about the Asgard energy weapons?"

"_They haven't been tested yet, sir."_

"At maximum sublight we're forty seven seconds to get clear," Marks did the math quickly, as the _Odyssey_ was rocked by another weapon discharge.

"We're not gonna make it at that rate." Cam shook his head.

"Let's see what these new Asgard upgrades are made of. Come about."

The Odyssey abruptly pulled itself into a tight 180 degree turn, banking sharply and bearing to the port side of the Ori ship.

"Power up the weapons!" Hank ordered.

"Energy weapons are online."

"Fire!"

From two fore emitters, a near constant stream of hyper-energized destructive blue plasma lanced directly into the dorsal section of the Ori ship. The beam petered out, but another forward emitter sent another beam. The shields of Ori ship flared brilliantly under the strain.

"Sensors indicate enemy shields are fluctuating."

"Keep firing!"

Another two shots lanced out from _Odyssey_, this time from the ventral emitters as the ship passed the Ori mothership. The first was deflected, but the second broke through as the shield finally couldn't keep up under the strain and the plasma beam tore into the hull of the Ori ship. The oxygen was flash ignited inside and the destructive plasma continued to shear through the ship. Another beam from _Odyssey_ directed at its enemy's power core…and with a massive energetic explosion the entire vessel was obliterated.

"I'll be damned!" Hank exclaimed in triumph. After the horrendous losses to the Ori and their seemingly invulnerable ships, it felt damn good doing that.

"We got em." Cam smirked.

"Get us into hyperspace," Hank didn't want to linger, Orilla was clearly compromised and who knew how many more Ori ships were on the way.

"Yes sir."

_Odyssey_ swiftly powered away and a minute later squirted into a hyperspace window, leaving Orilla and the Ida Galaxy, former home of the now extinct Asgard, behind.

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A day passed, and the Odyssey crew effected minor repairs to what systems they could whilst the ship was in Hyperspace. Which thanks to the upgrades now made the list of things that could be patched up rather long; the shield matrix was restored, burnt out crystals from energy fluctuations replaced – which could be manufactured from scratch on board thanks to the Asgard matter-energy constructor.

Hank had been taking a tour of the ship and getting a feel for her new capabilities – as it would rapidly change the way Earth fielded and commanded its ships in the near future. The operational endurance of the ship had practically been turned from a few weeks before a resupply was necessary to conceivably years, possibly decades if the crew could harvest raw materials or energy sources. The new NI Generators used any solid matter as fuel, meaning that they could literally chuck garbage into the damn thing and get energy from it.

He walked down another corridor and spied Colonel Carter speaking to a ship technician. "Run another diagnostic of the data." The tech nodded and hurried off tapping on his tablet PC. She spotted him and fell into step.

"Colonel, how's that report coming? I want to be able to brief the President as soon as we get back. He's gonna want to know how quickly we can duplicate this new Asgard weaponry and other related technologies." Hank knew what this could mean for Earth – true homeworld security, that didn't depend on the whims, troubles or foibles of any of their allies. Heck, those same allies, like the Hebridians, Orbanians and the like (all relatively more advanced human societies) would soon be approaching Earth for help.

"I'm working on it, sir, but something else has come up. The hyperdrive diagnostic is spitting out some data that's concerning me." Carter explained steadily.

"We took some damage that we can't fix in flight, that's the problem?"

"I think we need to drop out and run a few tests just to be sure," she advised.

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_Odyssey_ emerged from subspace in the void between the Ida and Milky Way Galaxies; they still had another million light years to go before reaching home. Hank was in the command chair again, just in case, the starless void was technically supposed to be empty, but that was not a guarantee. And it immediately proved prudent when he saw Major Marks at the Helm station give a start of surprise as he stared at his screen.

"Sir? Two contacts just appeared on sensors. Motherships. Ori. Closing fast."

Hank inwardly swore. _How the hell did they track us?_ He tapped the com to Engineering. "Colonel, given we've already taken damage, I'd rather not take on two more ships."

_Odyssey_ was rocked by beam blasts and Marks began a set of rapid evasive maneuvers, a few agonizing moments later.

"_Sir, the hyperdrive is back on-line."_

"Get us back into hyperspace." Hank ordered tensely.

_Odyssey_snapped forward swiftly into a hyperspace window, leaving the two Ori ships behind.

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_**Odyssey **_**Briefing Room**

"It's a hell of a coincidence, don't you think?" Cam began, staring grimly out the windows to swirls of hyperspace speeding past it.

"Well, unless they were tracking us and just waiting for us to drop out," Sam reasoned.

"I thought that a ship couldn't be tracked in hyperspace," Hank raised an enquiring eyebrow at Carter. He had only been in the Stargate program for two years now, but he had attended a basic Interstellar science and starship ops 101 course - and it firmly stated that an approaching ship nearing emergence from hyperspace could be detected up to an hour before it arrived with powerful enough sensors, but it could not be done by ships passing each other in space.

"Unless it was the Ori themselves, tipping off the Priors," Vala suggested. Which was a disturbing possibility; that the Ori were dead had been confirmed somewhat by the Goa'uld Ba'al when he had taken the leader of the Ori Armies, the extremely powerful half-human/half-Ori Adria briefly, as host. But Ba'al was not exactly a trustworthy source of information.

"Even so, we've already passed back into the Milky Way. As far as we know, the Ancients should have a problem with the Ori using their ascended powers right under their noses." Daniel pointed out.

"As far as we know," Carter qualified grimly.

"At least we now have weapons that we know will destroy an Ori ship." Cam was visibly trying to point out that the glass was half-full too.

"Well that's not gonna do us any good if they can track us wherever we go. I mean eventually, the _Odyssey's_ gonna come up against more than she can handle."

"Is it possible the Priors can detect the new technology given to us by the Asgard without the help of the Ori?" Teal'C suddenly spoke to the last and most frustrating possibility.

"I suppose the Asgard core power source could be giving off some sort of unique energy signature that's detectable from sub-space. However without further experimentation, the only way to find out is to shut it off and see if that stops the Ori from following us." Carter theorized with visible frustration, because if this was the case, it meant that it would delay the implementation of the technologies until a work around could be found. A delay that Earth and the rest of the Galaxy could not afford.

"Do it," Hank ordered after a moment's consideration.

"The problem with that, sir, is that the new Asgard core is currently tied into every system on this ship. We would have to drop out of hyperspace and isolate the core from the hyperdrive controls, and that could take some time."

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_Odyssey_, now well into the Milky Way, emerged from Hyperspace. Hank seated again in the commander chair looked to Major Marks, and sure enough…

"Sir, two contacts just appeared on sensors…"

"Son of a bitch!" Hank cussed, practically hitting his intercom with a fist, as the ship was hit hard by an Ori beam cannon.

"Shields are down to eighty percent!"

"Evasive, fire at will!"

"We already took out one ship, what's another two?" Cam exclaimed sarcastically.

"Colonel I need the hyperdrive now!" Hank snapped.

Again another agonizing couple of moments passed.

"_Go ahead, sir. Hyperdrive's on-line._"

The nimble _Odyssey_ charged around an Ori ship, before leaping into Hyperspace.

8888888888888888

_**Odyssey**_** Engineering Control**

"We're gonna need at least half an hour to separate the hyperdrive system from the core." Carter informed everyone assembled in the room grimly.

"We must assume that the Ori ships will continue to engage us whenever we stop." Teal'C jaws were visibly flexing in his restrained anger.

"Is there a planet with a Stargate nearby?" Hank hated to do it, but he couldn't see any other options. Carter walked over to the nearby Asgard panel, and consulted with it briefly.

"Yes, sir: P3X-474. It's uninhabited. We should get there in just under an hour."

"And then what?" Daniel said potently, clearly sensing the military minds around him were up to what he considered no good.

"Beam to the surface and gate home," Colonel Mitchell said matter-of-factly.

"We can't let this ship fall into enemy hands," objected Sam firmly.

"That's what the self-destruct is for," Hank said practically. Either way with the Ori tracking the ship like bloodhounds, it would either be destroyed in battle or by self-destruct.

"Whoa, wait a minute, sir." Daniel's eyes were blazing. "If-if you're talking about destroying this ship… We can't sacrifice the knowledge base of the Asgard. They trusted us with their legacy."

"Doctor Jackson," Hank said gravely. "This is not something I'm considering lightly, I know full well the implications of this course of action." He turned to Sam. "I'm assuming we can't take it with us?"

"No sir, the core is too big to fit through the Gate," Sam shook her head regretfully. She dearly wished the Asgard would have had the foresight to realize that the Core would have this problem.

"Well, I for one am willing to stay and put up a fight! I think it's worth it." Daniel insisted strenuously.

Hank looked at the options and finally decided on a middle path of sorts. It galled him to throw away the technological equivalent of the Holy Grail for Earth, and he knew that they would be raked over the coals for just abandoning the _Odyssey_ to destruction. He had read enough mission reports to know that many times SG1 and various other SG teams had been in similar situations…opportunities to gain valuable intel and technology lost because of dire circumstances and doing the 'right' thing, instead of the 'smart' thing.

"Get us to '474. We'll beam the crew down to the surface. Hopefully there'll be enough time for them to gate home before the Ori attack."

"And then what? I've said it before, I am for fighting to the death, but we need a plan, preferably one that avoids the 'to the death' part." Cam said steadily.

"We have an hour to come up with one." Hank was firm.

"I think I may have a way of buying us a little more time." Sam had that thoughtful look on her face that promised a miracle was in the works.

8888888888888888888888

_Odyssey_ exited hyperspace directly in mid orbit and beaming range of the planet known in the database only as P3X-474. It was utterly unremarkable and had been probed by the SGC a few years ago. It had a Stargate, a nice ecology, no significant naquadah deposits and nothing else. It would probably make a nice colony world for Earth in the future. The two hundred strong crew of the ship had been gathered and were beamed out en masse in two groups of a hundred (the maximum amount of people that could be transported at a time).

Hank was in his rightful seat, whilst Daniel now occupied the Ops station, and Cam took the Helm. Teal'C manned the rear area of the Bridge so he could access ship control panels and do damage control. Sam and Vala were both in Engineering.

And right on schedule, the two Ori warships that had been hounding _Odyssey_ appeared from their own hyperspace windows.

"Here they come!" Daniel tapped steadily on the controls, bringing _Odyssey_'s beam weapons to bear. He obviously had none of the finesse of Major Marks, but none was required in this situation.

"Shields at max! Evasive! Concentrate fire on one target at a time, Doctor." Hank ordered.

_Odyssey _jinked and weaved under the combined fire of both Ori ships, guided expertly by Cam with his years as a fighter pilot. But unfortunately, Odyssey was not a fighter, and would inevitably…

The three men were jolted in their seats as the ship was struck by a beam.

"Okay, that was not good," winced Cam, furiously pushing the ship into another L4 evasive.

"Shields are down to twenty eight percent," Daniel reported – there had been no time to restore the shield matrix on this occasion, and so the damage was cumulative to the previous battle.

"We're hitting it with everything we've got! Bring the new Rail guns to bear as well!" Cam snapped.

_Odyssey_ swooped down relative to one of the Ori ships, bearing for the dorsal profile, blue plasma beams hammered into it, and now thin streaks of light joined the onslaught as the small high density kinetic explosive rounds sped at a third of light speed to aid in the destruction. The Ori shield was breached and immediately died a massive fiery death under kinetic, explosive and plasmatic firepower.

Cam threw the _Odyssey_ into more evasives, but the remaining Ori ship had used the death of its comrade to take the time to get proper bead on the smaller ship.

Those on the Bridge were nearly thrown out of their chairs as inertia of the weapon impact carried through to the ship because…

"Shields are off line!"

"One more hit will take us out!"

"Colonel Carter!" Hank shouted desperately, as the world suddenly became all white…there was a bright flash and…

…it died down to show that the Bridge was intact, a glance to his left and right showed Daniel and Cam blinking to get rid of the strobe effect. Hank glanced at the tactical screen…the planet was there…but the Ori ship was…gone.

"Status report?" Hank asked quietly.

"I'm not reading anything on sensors," Daniel shook his head in puzzlement. "Our shields are still down, but luckily Sam's plan seemingly worked meaning that's all the damage we have."

"Mitchell?"

"Uh, sir. I think something went hinky."

"Define hinky, son."

"We're still moving, the planet is still rotating. And…I can't get a fix on our position in space any more, sir."

"Why?"

"The navigational computer says the stars don't correlate to known patterns from our current position. I'm letting it run a search." Cam explained with a frown of worry.

"Uh, guys, where's Teal'C?" Daniel sudden question caught them off guard and both turned in their seats to see that indeed, the stalwart Jaffa had vanished.

"Colonel Carter...?" Hank thumbed the intercom.

"_Sir…I'm sorry, something has gone wrong, I'm still not sure what…but somehow…Teal'C appeared right __in front of me and stopped me from activating the Time Dilation field and gave me a program that isolated and stopped the problem of the Asgard core instantly. Teal'C is also…visibly older, sir."_

Hank shook his head from all the puzzle pieces rattling around in his mind. "Carter, bring Teal'C to the Briefing Room, we need to figure out what just happened, we've got our own sudden mysteries up here."

88888888888888888888888

_**Odyssey**_** Briefing Room**

Hank stared at the veteran Jaffa for a brief moment of amazement, there were visible streaks of gray in the big man's hair, and he looked a little bit saggier in his muscle tone than was normal. Teal'C looked at them occasionally as if he was experiencing some heavy emotion, happiness and sadness…especially the latter when he looked at Hank.

"I come from a time fifty years in the future," Teal'C explained. "Originally, Colonel Carter activated the Time Dilation field as planned, and as the energy from the Ori cannon was a mere .9 seconds from hitting the vulnerable _Odyssey_…Time was stopped. From that point she endeavored to find a solution to the problem, initially intending to take the ship out of phase."

"That would work," Sam nodded, well used to discussing things about alternate-hers, or future-hers.

"Unfortunately, you determined that the phasing process wouldn't have enough time," Teal'C continued. "In addition, evacuation via beaming and F302s had the same problem."

"So we were basically stuck on the ship," Cam deduced.

"Indeed," nodded Teal'C, "however, Colonel Carter continued in her endeavors to find a solution. Of the events of the past fifty years that I have witnessed on this ship, I will relate at another time, because it's a long, long, long, story. In the end after a near lifetime of work Colonel Carter managed to reverse time within the Time Dilation field."

"Wow, I figured that out?" Sam grinned looking impressed.

Teal'C only nodded. "However, there was a problem, after fifty years of operation, the ship had very little power left…the ZPM was near depletion. No power was available to implement the very solution you had spent so long perfecting."

"There's irony for ya," Cam snorted.

"It was Colonel Mitchell who came up with solution," Teal'C grinned at his team mate.

"Me?"

"You happened upon the idea of using the very energy from the Ori beam weapon to fuel the time reversal. Colonel Carter saw the possibility of its success and rerouted power conduits to channel that energy directly into the Asgard Core."

"Wouldn't that still destroy the ship?" Hank puzzled.

"It would indeed General Landry," nodded Teal'C. "It didn't matter, the Asgard Core survived long enough to reverse time, as my presence indicates. Something went wrong though, according to the future Colonel Carter, time would only reverse to the point where the original time dilation field was established. We should still have been under threat from the Ori ship, yet it is clearly not there anymore."

"Not to mention the hinky stars around us, the nav computer is still working on determining our position and it's been almost twenty minutes." Cam stared at his watch.

Everyone turned to Sam as she abruptly gasped, a light of realization entering her eyes. "Oh my goodness!" She abruptly got up walked over to the small keyboard podium next to the large LCD screen and after a few taps of the keys, it changed to show the nav-comp display…still scrolling and analyzing visible star patterns.

"What is it, Colonel?" Hank asked.

"Just bear with me, sir, I have a theory…" Sam trailed off and began typing in commands. The nav-comp abruptly stopped searching, and the star field it was analyzing changed. Finally, after a few minutes of working, the screen flashed 'Position verified'. No one celebrated, for Sam's shoulders had slumped and she looked like someone had punched her in the gut.

"Colonel…"

She didn't answer and walked over to her chair and collapsed into it.

"Sam…"

"I can't believe I thought it would work," she said shaking her head. "Using such powerful and unstable energy…"

"Colonel Carter!" Hank snapped.

Sam snapped upright in her chair. "Sorry sir, I believe I know what happened. I don't know how it happened, but…sir, there's no easy way to say this but, some form of glitch or catastrophic malfunction must have occurred in the Asgard Core when all that destructive energy was dumped into it…" She saw the impatient expressions of her fellows and sighed. "The reason the stars are different is because we have somehow been displaced in time and possibly Universes…" She pointed out to the windows. "The nav-comp could only match our position based on 474's position in the Galaxy, when I ran the clock forward, so to speak."

"All right, let's have it, if this is the future, how far did we go?" Cam smiled sarcastically.

"By the Earth calendar, it is February…2152."

There was simply silence as they comprehended or tried to comprehend that.

"And the Universe thing? Why do you say we've left…"

"There is no Stargate on the planet below us any more."

"Ah crap!"

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Three days later _Odyssey_ still remained around P3X-474, the cloak engaged to remain undetected by whatever passed for starfaring races in this 'future' Universe – since they were in no condition for First Contact…not to mention First Conflict, if the race turned out to be hostile. Sam was doing her best to effect repairs but she was the only person qualified to really do this. Daniel, Cameron and Vala were working with her, but it was still slow going and since they weren't truly 'Engineers' she had to spend a lot of time looking over their shoulders. She irrationally wished that they hadn't chosen to drop off the crew, no use crying over spilt milk now.

Teal'C and the General remained on the Bridge to keep an eye on the sensors that kept a passive overwatch over a truly massive area of space - it still truly boggled Sam's mind sometimes, the sheer genius inherent in all Asgard technology.

"Is that it?" Daniel asked.

Sam snapped out of her funk at the Core workstation and ran the diagnostic. "Excellent. Yes, well done guys…you've just successfully restored a depleted shield matrix."

Cam pumped his fist in mock triumph. "Yeah!"

"Are we finished now?" Vala let out an exhausted breath that buffeted her long black hair that was hanging in her eyes somewhat.

"With the shields, yes, now we've got a bunch of minor systems that need work."

"Can't you just do that?" Vala whined.

"We are more than likely stuck in a completely unfamiliar Universe, and Sam is the only one who can fix this tub," Cameron narrowed his eyes at the former thief. "What if she, God forbids, ends up injured or killed by whatever this place throws at us…are we gonna use spit and glue to keep _Odyssey_ together then?"

Vala mumbled something but her indignation visibly vanished and she conceded the point, before a speculative gleam entered her eye. "What about using that memory transfer device we got from Galara?" The Earthlings look at each other with raised eyebrows at that idea, visibly considering it. "I mean, we are in a desperate situation here, couldn't Colonel Carter share all her memories of school and learning all this technical stuff?"

"Huh…we don't have a Galaran memory device on board, but I'm sure the Asgard must have a similar technology somewhere," Sam began to consult the Asgard Core for a few minutes then declared. "Got it."

The musical humming effect of the Asgard Universal Constructor resounded, with a white flash in the empty space between the walls and the main Engineering console something that almost resembled a high-tech dentist's chair appeared, with an odd U-shaped emitter that would surround the head of the person and a large control station integrated to the left of the chair.

"For the record, the only reason I'm considering this is because of our situation," Cameron held up a hand, his face grave. No one blamed him. He had been an unwitting victim of the Galaran memory device, when he had been given the memory of committing a murder of one of the scientists developing the same technology.

"_Colonel Carter._" General Landry's voice broke into Engineering Control over the com.

Sam briefly manipulated the jewel controls on the console. "Yes, sir?"

"_We've received a general distress call on subspace com_."

"With respect, sir, we're not exactly in a position to offer help."

"_I realize that, Colonel, however, the ship sending it identifies itself as the '__**Earth Starship Enterprise**__'_."

"Well, at least we know now Humanity is space faring in this future Universe, makes me feel a whole lot better about going 'home' with this tub." Cameron grinned.

"_One step at a time, Colonel Mitchell_." General Landry warned.

"I'm just saying I _so_ don't want to spend the rest of my life on this boat, sir. I apparently already did that once, and I don't want to let history repeat itself."

"_You and me, both Colonel. Do you have any objections, Carter?"_

"The Hyperdrive should be good to go for now, but sir, if Earth is indeed space faring it might be worth checking out. We could sure use the help."

"_I'll keep that in mind, Carter. I'll send a message back__ to them that help is on the way. They're only five light years away, we'll be there in a few minutes, and that's as slow as we can go."_

"General, uh, I suggest you…" Daniel perked up suddenly as if remembering something. "We don't know how they'll react given that we are from another Universe…they might not even believe us. So perhaps we can wait on that detail or even fudge it over somehow with a truth, perhaps I can speak in Alteran to help with that."

"_Relax, Dr Jackson, I've a hard time believing all this mysel__f…very well, do what you have to."_

88888888

_Captain's Starlog, supplemental. It's been almost four days since the incident in the Romulan minefield. Repair teams have been working around the clock. Nerves are definitely frayed._

Captain Jonathan Archer stared through the large front windows of tiny Inspection pod as it carefully cruised around his two hundred meter starship. It had been a tumultuous first year of their mission, and this was the first major damage to the _Enterprise_ since she had left Spacedock. They'd had unfriendly run-ins with Suliban, marauding pirates, unknown aliens that liked to play Dr Mengeler with any sentient species they came across, to name but the most memorable and had come through all that with easily fixable damage. This was not the case now.

Jon's reverie was interrupted when the heavily damaged section of his ship came into view. It was like someone had taken a large chunk out of the forward saucer section, just ten meters to port of the Deflector array.

"It's incredible we're in one piece," Jon murmured gravely, eyeing the carbon scored, torn bulkheads.

"If that mine had hit another metre to the left." Chief Engineer and Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker III breathed ominously, running a nervous hand through his dark blonde hair, steering the Pod to hover in place and looking at the damage with dismay. "We can't polarise the port bow plating until those breaches are sealed."

"What's your guess?" Jon's question was insistent and an almost prayer for a miracle from his best friend.

"Assuming we can find some tritanium alloy?" Trip's licked his own teeth in a thoughtful gesture. "Three or four months. And with this kind of damage the best I can give you is warp two, maybe two point one."

"In other words, we're a decade away from Jupiter Station. What about the transceiver array?"

"The subspace antenna's damaged. All we've got is short-range." Trip shook his head.

"We've answered enough calls for help over the past year." Jon rubbed his hands on the armrest of the co-pilot's chair restlessly. He didn't like to do this, but there was no other choice. "It's time someone returned the favour."

"You serious?" Trip looked incredulous.

"Archer to Ensign Sato." He tapped the Pod's com button on the control panel.

"_Go ahead, sir._" The spritely Com Officer's lilting voice emerged into the Pod interior.

"I want you to get started on a general distress call. Assistance required. Minor repairs. Don't go into too much detail." Jon definitely didn't want to broadcast into the clear that there was a ship that was easy fodder for anyone with a half decent weapon array.

"_Understood sir."_ She replied.

"Archer out."

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A few hours later found Jon at the computer station in his small Ready Room, just off the Bridge. It was barely half the size of his room in his childhood home, but it was an amenity that no other Starfleet ship had for its Captain. So to his sensibilities this was the lap of luxury; yes, the room had exposed bulkheads that he had to bend under and even the occasional exposed conduit, but it had a nice couch too where he could kick back and enjoy his meals during a duty shift. The four professional hand drawn artist renderings of previous ships bearing the name _Enterprise_ was the only aesthetic he had personally seen to with his privilege as Captain…and it certainly broke the grey blue spartan environment.

_Squeak_

Jon whirled in his chair and regarded the floor of his Ready room with a glare. Porthos heard it too and the Beagle barked in irritation and decided to abruptly demand some attention from his human. Jon, being the life long dog owner he was, readily gave the little dog a scratching and said, "Did you hear that? I don't believe it. Trip, told me he fixed that squeak."

The com chirped for his attention, Jon tapped the tiny terminal embedded in his desk. _"Captain, we're receiving a response to the distress call."_ The stoic voice belonged to T'Pol of Vulcan. One of only two non-Terrans that served on _Enterprise_, the other being the ship's CMO, Dr Phlox from Denobula Triaxa. Of the two, only Phlox had been Jon's choice, Sub-Commander T'Pol had initially been 'forcefully' assigned by the Vulcan Advisory Council as a 'chaperone'; her true role had been to keep _Enterprise_ on a leash so to speak. That role had lasted only until Jon had torn her a new one when she had kept vital information from him on the first mission. Now after more than a year of being his Science Officer and second in command, they had developed a healthy respect for each other. Jon had buried his bitterness against Vulcans and the Vulcan woman had seemingly done the same with her preconceptions about humans.

Jon entered the bridge; it was a compact command center, austere and spartan, mostly steel-walled, with a source of light from hidden panels overhead. There were no carpets or amenities, just various stations with bucket seats, and a maze of gauges, dials, little scanner screens and in the middle was the captain's chair – which he ignored and went directly to the Science station where T'Pol – with her olive toned features, midnight black hair, pointed ears and wearing the grey-black conforming Vulcan Commissar uniform, was working with cold, logical diligence. She wasn't a member of Starfleet, so didn't have the right nor inclination to wear Jon's uniform; a dark-blue jumpsuit, with its red geometrically drawn shoulder piping and shoulder patches with the _Enterprise_ crest on one side and United Earth's Space and Probe Agency crest on the other arm.

"It's an unknown vessel." She replied. Jon winced, he'd hate to make First Contact under such circumstances, but he'd done the same with the Xyrallians, only this time the roles were reversed. He was the one needing repair now.

"Hoshi?"

The Japanese descended Com Officer with her station just forward of T'Pol's, held a finger to her earpiece nestled in that magic ear of hers and frowned. "Hmmm." She murmured thoughtfully tapping on her console and then gave a start of surprise. "Sorry for the delay sir, it's just that the language they're using is awfully similar to Medieval Latin."

"That is odd," agreed Jon. "Can you translate?"

"Despite the similarity there is a vast difference in the vocabulary and some phonemes…" Hoshi muttered, her fingers now practically dancing on her console as a pleasant male voice sounded over the bridge speakers. Jon could understand immediately what Hoshi was talking about…the language did sound familiar, in a way that nagged at his mind like an itch that he just couldn't scratch. Finally, a smile came from Hoshi and it was accompanied by the voice now translated in real-time via the Universal Translator.

"…_this is the Terrani Starship 'Odyssey', responding to your distress call…this is the…_"

"This is Captain Archer of the starship _Enterprise_. Thank you for responding." Jon replied, hiding his surprise at the familiar words, but he was sure it was just the UT. The thing was hardly perfect. There was a slight lag and then.

"_How may we be of assistance?"_

"We need help in repairing some hull damage. If you can rendezvous with us, we'd be happy to discuss any options for trade or assistance you can offer."

"…_very well, if you will send us your coordinates…"_

"We're sending it on a sub-channel, can you confirm?" Jon nodded to Hoshi, who expertly did just that. A few seconds later…

"_We have your position; we can be there in a few time units…"_

Jon turned and shot a quizzical glance at T'Pol. She ran a scan and another elegant arched eyebrow was raised in his direction – n_o_. _Enterprise's_ sensors could keep an active watch over two light years in every direction, yet this Terrani ship was nowhere in that radius – a Vulcan ship at Warp 7 could cover two light years in just over a day, never mind a minute…assuming the Terrani used a similar time measurement to Earth.

"…thank you. I look forward to meeting you."

"_As do we. See you in a few time units."_

There was a beep and the com was silent. "Hoshi, are you sure the UT worked properly?"

"There vocab and grammar could still be off, sir. But I locked onto the syntax for sure."

"So they could be here in a few minutes?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Then let's wait a minute and see." Jon crossed over to his chair and leaned against it. Giving glances at the ship's official time clock mounted on the walls and then to T'Pol who was both diligently monitoring sensors.

Six minutes later and…

"Captain," T'Pol had an eyebrow raised at the results her scans were showing. "A spatial disturbance just appeared ten thousand kilometres off the starboard bow."

"Viewscreen." Jon ordered immediately.

The visual feed at the head of the bridge abruptly changed to show a large mass of twisting purple energy against the inky black backdrop of space and something shot out at an insane relativistic speed before decelerating impressively and turning leisurely on a course toward _Enterprise_. The cloud of energy vanished into nothingness as suddenly as it had appeared leaving a ship behind.

"Magnify." Jon ordered towards Hoshi, containing his amazement at what he had just seen.

The view changed again to show a ship that was seemingly designed on a function over form basis and had little aesthetics. Its dark grey hull made it somewhat hard to see, but Jon came to one conclusion immediately.

"It's a battleship," T'Pol declared. "My scans are being deflected somehow, but there's a vertical launch torpedo battery along the main neck, turreted weapons arranged in a point defence formation all over the hull, and numerous energy weapon emitters in every conceivable firing arc, Captain. I also believe that the pods on either side of the main hull are launch decks for fighter ships."

He nodded in agreement; the pods were quite large and were way too big for just launching shuttles. "What did you make of its arrival?"

"It must utilize a form of Faster than Light other than Warp Drive," she deduced. "The spatial phenomenon had a subspace signature, several orders of magnitude greater than I have ever seen."

"And the ship itself?"

"I'm unfamiliar with the design and there are no matches in the Vulcan database," T'Pol replied stoically. "Its Sensor countermeasures are also quite effective, I doubt even a Vulcan ship could penetrate them, but its radiant energy profile is…extremely high. It could power the energy demands of Earth's American continents with no strain."

"They're coming to a relative stop twenty kilometres away, sir," Ensign Travis Mayweather, the dark skinned Chief Helmsman of _Enterprise _reported with a note of tension from his station directly facing the viewer. Clearly he didn't like what he was hearing or seeing one bit.

"Easy, Travis," Jon said steadily, though internally his heart was hammering. "They seemed rather friendly in their broadcast, so let's not retreat just yet. Hail them."

"I've got them, audio only," Hoshi said from her station.

"_Greetings again_, Enterprise_. I am General Landry, the commander of _Odyssey_."_ The voice was different this time, slightly more gruff, and Jon got the impression that it belonged to an older individual. And again there was the familiar Earth name the Terrani used…

Jon stared at Hoshi, who frowned at her panel and shrugged helplessly.

"Thanks for coming," Jon said, putting that nagging feeling in his mind on the backburner and turning to the matter at hand. "As you can see, we've got some extensive damage. I extend an invitation for you to come onboard so we can perhaps discuss in person how we can help each other."

"_We would be delighted, if you provide the appropriate energy transport coordinates…where we can safely appear in your ship, we can be there presently."_

Jon blinked in astonishment. They actually _wanted_ to go through a Matter-Energy Transport on a simple journey of twelve clicks. He had only done it once, and that was only because he had been a moment away from getting shot by Silik, the Leader of the Suliban Cabal. He recovered his wits quickly though.

"We're sending the coordinates for our Shuttlepod Launch bay. I'm afraid because our species has never met before, that I must ask you to submit to a Decon scan."

"_Understood, Captain. We will transport over in ten minutes. Is that acceptable?_"

"That's fine, General."

"_See you then."_

The com deactivated. "Hoshi, have Dr Phlox report to Decon to meet our guests."

"Aye sir."

888888888888888888

Jon stood next to T'Pol in the corridor just outside the Decon chamber, which like the Launch Bay was isolated from the rest of the ship to prevent the weird and wonderful bacteria, spores and viruses of the Galaxy from finding purchase amongst his crew. Currently it was playing host to two people from _Odyssey _that had arrived with a rather impressive flash of white light on the empty launch bay floor. He couldn't get a good look at them from the visual monitor outside of Decon, but they were bipedal nitrogen oxygen breathers, wearing dark green jumpsuits.

He stared at Phlox as he monitored the medical scans of the two inside the sealed off chamber.

"Captain…ah, tell me what species did these individuals call themselves?" the quirky dull orange skinned Denobulan Doctor frowned at the readout screen.

"Terrani…is there a problem?"

"Not a problem, exactly, one of them could stand to lose a little weight…the other has a few odd protein markers and an unknown metallic element in her blood that I can't identify."

"Does the latter pose a danger to the crew?" T'Pol asked.

"None that I can see, I just asked because the two people inside are a male human in his fifties and a female human in her late thirties."

"Human?" Jon asked flatly, trying to comprehend that and all the questions it spawned in his mind.

"I ran the scan twice and even had the computer run a self diagnostic, the medical sensors are in perfect condition, Captain." Phlox defended himself. Jon held up his hands to convey his apologies about his tone. He strode over to the viewing hatch and pulled it open. There in the chamber in full reality was something that shouldn't be. _Enterprise_ was the pathfinder for humanity; there were no others, yet how can there be humans on that mysterious and powerful battleship?

Both the elder man and the woman turned at the sound of the hatch opening and their eyes met. Jon could see rigidity in both their bearings and the way they carried themselves…to the observant it screamed 'military', something that Jon had seen in Starfleet Marines and Earth's MACO forces.

That the woman was also quite attractive his mind noted next…yet her expression held a cool detachment that would make a Vulcan proud.

"Can they be released yet?"

"They lack immunities to certain common pathogens found on Earth and those we've become accustomed to in the past year, they'll need to stay for a day or two, until the inoculations I've given them can properly take effect. Until then your negotiations will need to take place here."

"That implies that despite being human, they don't come from Earth." T'Pol queried. "Perhaps from the Vega colony?"

"No, they don't have any of the common Vegan immunities either," Phlox disagreed. "Wherever they come from, Captain…it is not any _known_ human world."

Jon pondered that revelation and then turned to more familiar waters. "Thank you, Doctor, how's Lieutenant Reed's leg doing?"

"He'll be fit to return to duty in two weeks, the metal spike from the Romulan mine did extensive damage."

"I hope you don't mind if I send him homework, I've got a feeling I'll be needing his input soon."

"A Padd of work and no more," Phlox ordered sternly before suddenly smiling and traipsing off back to Sickbay, humming a tune as he went. Jon pondered the eccentricities of his ship's CMO before turning back to the conundrum housed in his decon chamber. _Time to take the bull by the horns,_ he thought to himself and tapped the com.

"I'm Captain Archer, welcome to _Enterprise_."

The older man walked up to the viewing window, his steely eyes surveying Jon before saying, "I'm General Landry. This is my first officer, Colonel Carter." Their mouths weren't in sync to their words; clearly the UT was still having trouble.

"Uh, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, our scans show you are human…and we're the first deep space vessel humanity has sent out…how can you be here?"

Jon's first thought had been perhaps that they and their vessel was from the future. The Temporal Cold War was still in full swing. _Enterprise _had for a time since its launch held a Time Travelling infiltrator, an unassuming crewman named simply Daniels; whose job it was apparently to monitor events and make sure that they proceed according to the 'proper timeline'. The Suliban were also players in the Cold War, as they received orders from a 'faction' in the twenty eighth century – who could only communicate through Time. Not travel, like Daniel's thirty first century future Federation faction was able to.

But despite their mighty ship with clearly superior technology, the lack of inoculations put paid to that theory. Daniels had never had similar trouble. Then again his 31st C immune system could probably defeat the common cold for all Jon knew - Carter and Landry didn't have that.

"That will take some explaining," Landry shook his head. "We can share some portions of our database with you to provide proof, but…we're not from this Galaxy, nor the Local Group."

Jon's eyes widened as he tried to comprehend that. Humans beyond the Local Group of Galaxies?! That was insane…yet he reminded himself of that unusual FTL method they had, which could seemingly cross light years in moments.

"Go on."

"There was once an Ancient Race known as the Asgard, who measured their space faring history in hundreds of thousands of years. They were explorers, scientists, dedicated to furthering their knowledge of the Universe. At one point during Earth's Dark Ages, they sent an expedition to explore the Milky Way. They found Earth during the seventh century AD."

"At the time, the Vikings of Scandanavia were in ascendancy, but the Asgard held Earth under observation and study for a few centuries. They eventually decided to influence the Vikings into a more positive way and began impersonating the Norse gods using their extremely advanced technology." Landry paused for a moment. "With the rise of Christianity, the Asgard found their long term experiment endangered, and so they pretty much abducted entire villages of their 'Chosen' and people from various other 'Earth stocks' to get a pretty diverse gene pool going. They took them back to the Asgard home galaxy to continue the 'experiment'," Landry chuckled humourlessly. "They even terraformed and engineered a 'second' Earth for the Taken in a suitably similar star system."

Jon visibly considered this story for a moment. It was true that Earth's history had huge gaps in it, and primitive Earth could've been conceivably visited by aliens, just like they themselves had done last year with the Akaali. But to abduct entire villages? Clearly these Asgard didn't have compunctions about 'interfering' in lesser species. Landry spotted it and nodded towards Carter.

"The Asgard had maintained their surveillance of Earth, Captain Archer," Carter spoke for the first time in a pleasant sounding soprano. She held up an oval stone that glowed in her palm. "Perhaps you'll recognize them in their natural form." The oval stone suddenly flared and a transparent hologram of a rather familiar alien hovered in mid air…it was a Roswell Grey!

"They became interested in Earth again when you detonated the first atomic bombs, unfortunately their landing craft malfunctioned and they crashed in Roswell, New Mexico." Carter explained.

"Did the Asgard inform you of your true origins?" T'Pol queried.

"Yes, once Terrani Earth reached the correct level of development, when we achieved Hyperspace travel. They also shared everything that's happened to your Earth, although the information is only current to the Earth year 2007 – it takes a long time to travel between here and home. It's a pleasant surprise to see you've achieved FTL in the intervening time – although it's rather slow." She grinned to take the sting out of the comment.

"If…it's such a long journey, why are you here?" Jon asked next, trying to come to grips with the fact that these people considered Warp speed like an adult might look at the child's trike.

"Our presence in the Milky Way is an accident," Landry explained further. "As you've no doubt surmised the _Odyssey_ is a warship. Well, we were at war, fighting alongside the Asgard and other allies against an implacable foe, and in the course of one of our battles a planet was destroyed. We were forced to engage our Hyperdrive in the gravitational and radiation wake of the blast…the result was our speed was amplified to such an extent – that we covered a journey that would take a hundred years – in less than five minutes."

"And you ended up in the Milky Way? That's a slight coincidence…" Jon observed.

"We ended up close, a few thousand light years z-plus the galactic plane." Carter explained. "We entered the Galaxy and started looking for the first habitable planet to set down and make some repairs. We received your distress call just as we had found one."

"I see," Jon said, he felt like he needed a few days to process this. And he couldn't wait to get his teeth into the Terrani database... Starfleet would be in for one hell of a report. "So what help can you give us?"

"We have the capability to repair your ship completely, the only thing it would cost is the energy used in the process," Carter explained.

"How is that possible?" Jon asked with a frown.

"All Terrani ships have Energy Matter Constructors on board; it takes pure energy and resequences it into whatever shape, form or element we wish."

"I saw a similar device on a Tarkalean vessel, Captain. It was capable of replicating almost any inanimate object." T'Pol reported.

"The Constructors are part of Repair Drones," Carter explained further, the oval stone in her hand came to life again and showed a sleek insect like robot with multiple arm appendages and made of a silvery metal. "We will of course, need the schematics of all your damaged systems and hull sections to program the Drones."

Jon could already see Trip salivating at the mere thought of taking a look at such technology.

"That can be easily done," Jon nodded; it wasn't as if they were in any position to refuse.

"We also offer to upgrade your ship's defences and a few other systems," Carter said next. Jon gave a start of surprise at the offer. "We couldn't help but notice you have no Shields, your hull energizing is ingenious though, something that would've been very handy to have during the war. The phased particle cannons are nice too, though their punch is a bit lacking…the same goes for your missiles."

"Why would you do this?" Jon asked, _Enterprise _could sure do with Energy shielding, Starfleet had been trying to crack that concept unsuccessfully since it's founding. Almost every hostile race they'd found in space had Shields, and it had put the Earth ship at a decided disadvantage every time particle beams were exchanged in anger. He had mixed feelings about the weapons…_Enterprise_ was not a warship, but there was nothing wrong with the concept of 'deterrence', perhaps if his ship actually had some teeth to bare it would discourage the traditionally bigger wolves from picking a fight.

"You're our cousins, and family must look out for one another," General Landry nodded firmly. "And to be honest, we're making it so you can't refuse our only request in return."

"You want a home, on Earth," Jon deduced quickly.

"That is part of it," nodded General Landry. "Perhaps we'll even join your space program or Agency, eventually; our technology base would certainly go a long way to making anyone quickly regret messing with Earth. There are nightmares in the cosmos, Captain Archer, nightmares that even the Asgard with all their power struggled to deal with. Earth and _our_ race will meet these terrors in the future, and that is all the incentive I need to proceed with this."

"We also would like access to your historical archive to get up to speed on the past hundred odd years. I also want your personal guarantee that _Odyssey_ will remain as she is, Terran Earth can prod, poke and study her systems all they want, but she is to remain intact – being what she was meant to be…a potential spear to be thrust into the heart of any enemy."

"I'll need to discuss that with Starfleet," Jon eventually decided after a moment's thought and a glance to the stoic T'Pol. "But as Captain of _Enterprise_ I can agree to the repairs, upgrades and granting you sanctuary on Earth, as I'm technically an Ambassador of Earth out here as well."

"Very well," agreed Landry.

"I'll have my Chief Engineer send over the schematics as soon as possible."

Landry and Carter nodded, retreating deeper into the Decon chamber. Jon slid the viewing slat shut and began walking to Engineering to get the agreement with Terrani started.

"Any thoughts, Sub-Commander?"

"They are not being fully forthcoming." T'Pol declared.

"Of course, they're not," Jon agreed. "I can see all the signs of the truth being used to gloss over more pertinent truths they don't want to reveal. But my feelings tell me they're not doing it as a cover for something nefarious…no," he stated looking in deep thought, "if anything I think they're reticent because of something else."

"In any event, we will have ample time to get to know them in the coming days."

"I'm looking forward to it." Jon rubbed his hands together eagerly with a smile.

8888888888888888888888

Sam stood in the _Enterprise_' cavernous Engineering deck and watched the oblong horizontal, pulsing red, Matter/Anti-Matter Reactor assembly with undisguised fascination. The M/A Reactor was something that many physicists in the Stargate program dreamed of building, but no technology had been encountered or developed by Earth that could conceivably lead to creating one. She herself had been involved in the theoretical exercise for such a thing – storing anti-matter was easily done with force fields, creating an environment for the controlled annihilation was also possible, but the mass production of anti-matter was the insurmountable hurdle, not to mention using the released photon energy and distributing it throughout ship systems in some way.

But _Enterprise_ and this Earth had solved both problems, with the EPS grid, and their Concentric Fusion Reactors, that could double as anti-matter generators by colliding millions of deuterium particles at close to the speed of light…essentially creating both matter and anti-matter from nothing. _Enterprise_ could generate her own anti-matter in the ships Fusion reactors (colloquially known as 'Impulse reactors' as they also generated the ships sublight motive flight) but not enough to be completely independent of Earth's mass antimatter generators. And relied on deuterium as a fuel for the annihilation reaction.

Engineering itself was of pure human utilitarian design, something that Sam enjoyed for a change. The deck was busy and tightly fitted, a place where a thousand adjustments had been bolted on where they were needed, from circuit breakers to flow quenchers, some just to see if they helped at all. Sam was also down here to oversee the twenty Asgard Repair Drones as they buzzed about inside and outside the ship doing the work they were programmed to with mechanical speed and efficiency.

The Chief Engineer of _Enterprise_ looked at her with equal parts satisfaction at her expression, and the attraction and lust of a man with the shield of gentlemanly courteousness. Sam found Charles Tucker III no less pleasing to the eye either, and the fact that he could mostly keep up with her famed 'technobabble' made them get along famously.

"Wait a sec," his Southern twang was quite distinctive. "Are you telling me you can find a way for us to do away with dilithium altogether? Control the anti-matter reaction in some other way?"

"Certainly, now that I've seen the reactor schematics," Sam mused thoughtfully, staring at the large diagnostic LCD screen in one of the corners of Engineering, showing the assembly blueprints. "With a number of technical improvements here and there to a few components, especially your antimatter injectors and Warp field governors, I think we can get your FTL speed to a point where you can cruise safely at what you call Warp 5, with flank speed at six."

"You're kidding?" Trip shook his head in amazement. "But are we gonna be able maintain those improvements if we take damage?"

"We'll also be installing a Matter-Energy Constructor here in Engineering, so yes."

"That alone is something I'd give an arm and a leg for," Trip grinned with a near childish excitement. "We can manufacture all the spare parts we'd ever need. No need to go back to Jupiter Station or Spacedock."

Sam grinned and pulled out the data jewel she had fabricated on _Odyssey_ before beaming over. It lit up and a gleaming blue diagnostic holograph of _Enterprise_ flared in existence, a number of places on the ship coloured in an angry red, indicating the damaged areas.

Trip studied it for a moment. "You've isolated every hull breach, every damaged system. I'll be damned. We scratched the hull right here, a year ago." He pointed to thin red line on the ventral section of _Enterprise_. "I bumped it with the inspection pod."

"Our sensors are rather advanced," Sam shrugged.

"Just how long are these Repair drones going to take to do all this?"

"Three days," Sam said idly.

"Damn, a repair and refit back home would take five months, at least."

"Not for long."

8888888888888888888888

Jon sat at the head of the table in the Captain's Mess with T'Pol next to him and surveyed how his two guests tucked into their meals with relish.

"My compliments to your cook," General Landry said significantly. "_Odyssey_ has a Mess hall, but the meals are all synthetic and pre-prepared, can't really afford to have a professional chef on a warship."

"A starship runs on its stomach," Jon commented lightly with a satisfied grin, taking a drink from his orange juice. "I'm curious about your FTL method, could you perhaps explain?"

"Colonel," Landry prompted.

Carter nodded and finished chewing on a piece of her steak before saying, "I'll begin with your own method as a reference point. You create a wave like distortion in the space time curvature and your ship essentially coasts on the depression of that wave. You're barely infringing on the boundary between real space and subspace."

"Our method, dives the ship completely into subspace, and even deeper into a tertiary space strata below that – colloquially known as Hyperspace. The ship also surrounds itself with a field that manipulates hyperspace at a quantum level – the stronger this field the faster the ship goes. Therefore the greater energy generation capacity a ship has, the faster it goes."

"Just how fast is the _Odyssey_?" Jon asked in amazement as he tried to comprehend the physics behind that. Subspace theory of course, postulated that there were eleven dimensions besides the 'natural' one of normal space, to see a ship which could actually go for a ride in those dimensions…

"We've never had to push her to flank, but her Intergalactic cruise velocity is eleven light years per second."

"You're telling me you can reach Earth from here in less than half a minute?"

"Indeed," Carter grinned. "For such short distances we actually have to put navigation on computer control, a human just can't react fast enough to drop the ship back to normal space before we'd overshoot our destination. It also has numerous tactical advantages, there's no way for another ship to scan or intercept you in Hyperspace, and you could also enter and exit Hyperspace intra-atmosphere of any planet if your coordinates are accurate enough."

"With General Landry's permission, we could even give you a feel for Hyperspace travel – we could extend our hyperspace field over _Enterprise_ and tow you back to Earth in perhaps less than ten minutes."

"Thanks for the offer, but we are a ship of exploration and we've just come off shore leave." Jon chuckled, but he was nevertheless tempted, but he wondered… "If _Enterprise_ had a Hyperdrive, how fast do you think she would go?"

"I can't be exact, but at a rough guess, sixty thousand times faster than light, eighteen billion kilometres per second."

Jon tried to imagine it…failed…tried again, having that sort of speed at his fingertips; the entire Galaxy was open to exploration with a Hyperdrive.

"It would require a rather extensive rebuild of your nacelles for that though."

"I think we'll stick with Warp drive for the present moment," Jon raised his hands to stall the eager Carter. She truly seemed to have a passion for science and technology. "The ability to consistently cruise at Warp 5 is more than good enough."

"Colonel Carter, can you scan normal space from Hyperspace?" T'Pol enquired.

"No," she shook her head. "There is too much distortion at that level of subspace strata. You can only scan extremely strong gravitic phenomena like Black holes and stars; anything smaller is essentially invisible."

"That doesn't really lend itself to exploration," Jon mused.

"That's true," conceded Carter with a shrug. "Unfortunately, Terrani Earth did not make First Contact with agreeable and logical aliens like the Vulcans." She nodded towards T'Pol. "We met a violent, expansionistic and parasitic race known as the Goa'uld. Our space program from its inception was designed to fight a war against them to resist their aggression. Our home galaxy isn't exactly a friendly place. Exploration really hasn't been a priority."

"That's a pity," nodded Jon. Thinking about what would've happened if Earth's First Contact had been with the aggressive and warlike Klingons. He shuddered at the mere thought of it.

"I wish to enquire about your medical technology, if that is permissible?" T'Pol changed the subject, having finished.

"Oh, is there any injuries to your crew you can't deal with?" General Landry enquired politely.

"No, but our Tactical Officer, Lieutenant Reed, suffered a severe injury to his leg when he attempted to defuse another Romulan mine that had latched onto our hull. He is recovering but it will be weeks before he is fit for duty, and even then his leg will be a burden for the rest of his life."

Jon saw Landry looking to Carter, who got a thoughtful expression on her face before she nodded to her superior.

"Colonel Carter will visit your Doctor and see what she can do."

Jon was surprised. "I thought you were the _Odyssey_'s Engineer, Colonel?"

Carter chuckled ruefully. "I am," she sighed. "I'm also the Science Officer, and the closest thing our ship has to a Medical Doctor." See must have seen Jon's incredulous look. "We train ourselves to Cross specialize in various fields, so if a member of the crew is killed, almost anyone could take over with little disruption. Also a ship like _Odyssey _doesn't need to have a large crew to run it – ideally it would have two hundred, but if needs be a single person could pilot it. We assign crew depending on the mission."

"How many of you are there now?" Jon asked, thinking of the sort of dire circumstances which forged such a type of crew doctrine. Carter looked to Landry again who nodded.

"Six," she answered simply.

"Six?" Jon repeated numbly. _Enterprise_ could function with a crew of ten, but only barely. Going into battle with anything less than full complement was tantamount to suicide.

"Indeed," Carter nodded. "General Landry is obviously our Commanding Officer, but he is also an Engineer. You have yet to meet Colonel Mitchell, but he is our Helmsman and Tactical Officer. Doctor Jackson is our Exo-Linguist and a Resident Diplomat. Vala is our…Infiltration Specialist and finally Teal'C, is a Jaffa Senator and Warrior – they're one of our allies – they're a warrior race that used to be enslaved by the Goa'uld, he defected to us and helped us gain his people's freedom."

"Interesting mix, I'd sure like to meet them."

"If you can give us more of the inoculations we received to send over to _Odyssey_, I'd be happy to give you a tour, Captain." General Landry invited.

"Can't wait." Jon smiled eagerly. Who'd have thought that when he set out on this mission he'd be meeting people from other Galaxies too?

8888888888888888888888

"Begging your pardon, Colonel Carter, but are you sure you know what you're doing?" Malcolm Reed, Armoury and Tactical Officer enquired. He had read the reports, the Captain himself had told him about it, even T'Pol, but here he was lying on a biobed in the large, bright and circular Sickbay of _Enterprise_, whilst a _human_ woman from _another Galaxy_ was applying some form of yellow orange energy to his injured left leg with an odd metallic device that fit snugly over her hand.

"That's the third time you've asked, Lieutenant," the blonde woman in her rather military style jumpsuit said, her eyes closed in concentration.

"You didn't answer the first two times, ma'am."

"That's because I have to concentrate on what I'm doing."

"You can relax, Mr Reed," Dr Phlox said excitedly, staring at the active bioscan readout. "Your cells are regenerating at an exponential rate. Do you see how the device is using synthetically produced mitochondrial energy of all things to stimulate the cell division?"

"Lovely," Malcolm said wryly.

"I could certainly use a device like this, perhaps…" The Doctor was practically drooling, Malcolm noted with amusement.

"This specific healing device would be useless in your hands, Dr Phlox," Colonel Carter opened her eyes and the energy turned off. "The element in my blood that you can't identify, it emits a specific frequency of energy that this device uses and converts into the mitochondrial energy."

"Ah, and as I don't have that element…" The Denobulan sighed disappointedly.

"We do have versions that work without needing the element, though," the Colonel pointed out. "I'll provide you with a list of what medical devices we have, look it through and get back to me."

"Thank you," Phlox was intensely gracious. "Although if it's not something that you feel comfortable discussing in Mr Reed's presence, just how did your gain a second element besides iron in your blood?"

"I don't mind any more…I was once host to a sentient symbiotic organism. This organism uses the element – naquadah - instead of iron in its own blood, when we were blended…that trait carried over to me as well."

"Fascinating," murmured Phlox, looking intrigued. "Was it these Goa'uld, that you were fighting a war against?"

"No, she wasn't, well, she was the same species but from a philosophically opposing faction, the Tok'ra. The Goa'uld are parasitical, totally suppressing the host consciousness…the Tok'ra share and blend, a merging of equals."

"I can't imagine having an alien organism in me," Malcolm shuddered at the mere thought.

"You can relax, Lieutenant, you'll never have to find out. Although since space is so vast, there might be something like the Goa'uld here in the Milky Way."

At this point, Phlox came over with small medical scanner and shined its blue light over the point where the spike had gone through. "Amazing, this tissue is completely healed, even the scar is gone. Try standing up. Any pain?"

Malcolm gingerly got off the biobed and put alternating weight on his left leg.

"None. Thank you, Colonel."

"You're welcome," she smiled brilliantly. Malcolm resolved to get to know this woman before they left for Earth.

888888888888888888

Having been declared fit for duty, Malcolm found himself back in uniform and seated across Commander Tucker in the Enterprise Mess hall a day later, tucking into a lunch and discussing the repairs and upgrades taking place to the ship.

"I tell you those Repair Drones are starting to make me feel a little redundant, I saw an entire transtator assembly replaced in fifteen minutes. It would've taken my crew a week. With this kind of technology in the pipeline Starfleet can build ships that maintain themselves. They wouldn't need Chief Engineers. Or Tactical Officers."

"A starship without a tactical officer?" Malcolm smirked. "I can't say I see the point. But I would relax. I spoke to Colonel Carter, the Repair Drones despite being very advanced still have to be programmed and are essentially mindless machines. Our cousins have apparently learned the hard way not to build things like AIs…they've had to fight against two distinct machine races in their neck of the Universe, in the end they were forced to wipe them both out."

"Thank goodness," the Commander mumbled. "How are the upgrades to the weapons?"

"You know I'm actually feeling rather safe on this ship now," Malcolm said with an air of realization, and pushed over a Padd. "The emitters for our phase cannons are now variable and dynamic, we can shift the phase of the particle beam as its firing if we wanted to. It can also fire particles in three different phases at the same time."

"Heck, any of the shields we've come across would struggle to stop that."

"In addition, they've been uprated to handle five hundred terajoules."

"Where'd the power for that come from?" Commander Tucker asked in askance.

"The Armoury is now home to a bank of supplemental micro-fusion reactors – so even if the Impulse reactors and Main power are offline, we could still fire the cannons."

"I see here there's also been work done on the Torpedoes." The Commander tapped the Padd, scrolling down on the list.

"Yes, each tube has been reconfigured with vertical magazines for rapid loading and gravitic accelerators," Malcolm explained pointing to relevant schematic. "The torpedoes themselves have microimpulse thrusters now, that means they can travel to their target at .4 the speed of light."

"That'll make intercepting them damn near impossible at ranges below one fifty thousand clicks, and am I reading this right…it's got force fields protecting the casing and anti-matter warheads?"

"Yes, it's essentially what Starfleet's in the experimental stages of already, a Photon torpedo. What about on your end?"

"Our Warp reactor's now got anti-matter injectors with variable compression; force fields for confinement and regulation of the annihilation reaction, I can go on and on, the bottom line is, Henry Archer's engine must get rechristened to a Warp 6 engine."

"What about those Shields I heard mention of?"

"One of the tertiary Storage bays has been emptied out, our new Shield Generator is now safely tucked in there, it still has to be connected to Main power, but the schedule says it'll be done by tomorrow."

"_Enterprise_ is going to be a totally different lady after this," Malcolm grinned in near boyish excitement.

"Oh yes," Commander Tucker matched the grin. "A lady with a polite smile and a deadly gun if you don't stay on her good side."

8888888888888888888

_**Enterprise**_** Shuttle Deck**

"Captain, it would so be easier to just have _Odyssey_ beam us over."

Jon sighed as he stepped onto the upper mezzanine level of the shuttle deck, where the control room was located in addition to the catwalks that lowered directly onto the aft sections of the subwarp six seater shuttle pods. He turned to Colonel Carter, and her superior following in her wake.

"When there is a choice and time, I prefer the shuttlepods."

"Say no more, Captain Archer," General Landry grinned in amusement. "I don't particularly care for it either, though it's saved my hide quite a few times."

"After you," Jon gestured for them to proceed.

Next to climb down the catwalk and into the pod, was the three men who definitely had more than a passing interest in seeing _Odyssey_, heck, Jon shared it – curious to see the innards of a ship designed by their extra-galactic cousins. Travis, Malcolm and Trip all but raced down into the pod.

Jon descended and locked the docking hatch behind him and took the only open seat left just behind the small Engineering station to the left of the fore controls. The pod bay doors opened below them and the docking arm pushed down, giving the little shuttle a relative boost downward into the void of interstellar space. The atmosphere control fins slid out to both side and the impulse engines kicked in to one quarter acceleration.

_Enterprise,_ now looking decidedly less damaged and almost completely 'ship shape and Bristol fashion' as Malcolm would say, passed swiftly above them, before disappearing from view as Travis guided them on an easy course towards _Odyssey_.

As the battleship came closer Jon could spot certain features on the dark hull of the ship more clearly, especially their Point Defence network…it amazed him that a ship this advanced had Rail guns – kinetic mass accelerators, to use the term T'Pol had given him. She had initially dismissed it as primitive, Jon had as well, until Carter stated what velocity they could fire the exotic explosive shells at. _'We learned early on in battling our enemies – especially the machine races – that sometimes old tech works better, because they are so set in their high technology world and thinking that they can't think of defending against 'primitive' weapons, or imagine using them either._'

Jon could see the logic behind that statement, he wondered if T'Pol could too.

Travis guided the pod to the large starboard hanger bay of Odyssey and the doors were already open and waiting for them. Just as they passed the threshold Jon saw the flash of an energy barrier – _forcefield to keep the air in_ – he wondered if that could be somehow integrated into the other NX class ships that was due to come off the Spacedocks assembly lines, to supplement emergency bulkheads, perhaps in places where there were no bulkheads – in case a crewman got trapped beyond one during a hull breach.

"Wow, those are beauties," Travis whispered in awe, as he guided the pod to a soft landing on an open part of the large deck. It was only when Jon opened the port hatch and got out that he saw what had his helmsman in rapture.

Fighters.

Eight of them, arranged on either side of the bay, they had a drooping C-shaped wing design with a cockpit module mounted in the centre. Their hulls were even darker than _Odyssey_, obviously to stop the venerable Eyeball Mark 1 from easily seeing them in backdrop of space.

"You actually take these into combat?" Malcolm asked of the Colonel. Jon could understand what he meant; most of the hostile species they'd met would swat them out of space casually.

"Our use for them has diminished, but for a long time they held the line against the Goa'uld," Carter explained. "But they're in the process of being upgraded as well. They'll soon have shields, pulse guns, and anti-matter missiles…it also helps that they have a short range Hyperspace capability."

A heavy bulkhead door opened to one side and a tall, dark haired, fair skinned man entered the bay in a similar green jumpsuit to Carter and Landry's. He exchanged near casual salutes with his fellows and turned to Jon.

"Welcome to the _Odyssey_, Captain Archer, I'm Colonel Mitchell, but everyone calls me 'Cam.'"

"Thanks, permission to come aboard?" Jon asked, shaking the man's hand.

"Granted," nodded Mitchell.

"I hope everything is in order, Colonel?" Landry asked pointedly.

"We're making good time, sir. Repairs should be done by this time tomorrow, at least those that we can do while _Odyssey_ isn't on the ground."

Jon blinked as his mind caught onto that little fact. "This ship can…land?"

"Sure," Mitchell said nonchalantly. "Never know when you might need to."

"Mitchell, can you escort our guests and give them the tour?"

"Be happy to sir, this way, gentlemen."

88888888888888

A few hours later, Jonathan Archer stood on the somewhat spacious Bridge of _Odyssey_, looking out the fore shielded windows and gazed at his own ship, that at this distance was just about as big as his hand. His face was set in a contemplative reverie… especially considering what the technology and sheer knowledge on board the _Odyssey_ could mean for Earth.

Jon felt just like when he was a child, painting starship models with his father, the fascination…the excitement, the rush of possibilities. But this time there was also a sadness clouding his mood; the Warp Drive that his father invested so much in, was going to soon be relegated as a secondary mode of FTL travel – something only done in short range scouting or exploration.

Then there was the large alien devices sitting in one of Odyssey's cargo bays, ten of them, which would put a whole new dynamic on interstellar travel. It still boggled his mind that such a thing was actually possible…Emory Eriksson, the inventor of Earth's Energy Transporter, and close friend of the family, would surely go giddy in his wheelchair to study those devices.

The Stargate.

Step through one on Earth, and a moment later, step out of another one on Vulcan.

And there was another kettle of fish that Jon had to consider. The reaction of the Vulcans to Earth suddenly getting access to a knowledge base that made their fifteen hundred years of spacefaring knowledge and history look paltry. He was sure that Starfleet and the UE government would share…to an extent, they were allies with the Vulcans after all, and they had helped Earth get back on its feet somewhat after World War 3.

Though he had a feeling that the UE wouldn't share as much as the Vulcans would like.

_How's that for putting the shoe on the other foot? _He thought inwardly with a grin. Admiral Forrest's face and reaction had been one for the record books too. With the subspace antenna fixed yesterday, Jon had spoken to the Admiral personally.

It had taken a bit of fast talking and sending an encrypted data packet with what scans they had of _Odyssey_, a small little tidbit of technology courtesy of General Landry – plans for how to modify any Starfleet transporter into a Universal Constructor, but it had finally gotten the point across to Forrest.

The Admiral had immediately called an informal meeting of the Command Council (sans Vulcan observers), and not four hours later, the verdict had come through.

_Odyssey_ was to proceed to Earth at their earliest convenience, and arrangements were being made to conceal her in orbit around Mercury. General Landry and his crew would be given sanctuary on Earth and allowed to pursue whatever they wished for with their lives, although Starfleet would reserve the right to call upon them to help in specific emergencies related to Odyssey and her technologies. Jon had a feeling that it didn't matter though. Odyssey's crew would more than likely not be content to just sit on Earth and do nothing – not when there was an entire new neck of the Universe to explore.

Jon knew General Landry was a man who could get things done – if there was one thing he had seen of the man, then it was that he didn't beat around the bush unless he had to. Jon wouldn't be at all surprised to see him become 'Admiral' Landry of Starfleet very soon. Landry had already had a few choice words about the subject of Solar System security. '_A satellite detection grid is fine, but where the hell are the Defense satellites or a Home fleet for that matter? Orbital Weapons platforms? Earth is fully space faring and here you are practically advertising the planet in deep space? As it stands anyone with a decent weapon array and shields on their ship could make merry havoc in Sol._'

Jon had argued right back that Earth wasn't going to militarize Sol.

'_I didn't say turn Sol into a "yes sir, no sir" zone, I said turn it into a place where even those Klingons would think twice about attacking. They know where Earth is thanks to that Klaang fellow you rescued._'

That argument had finally given Jon some pause. He recalled what Tos, the Vulcan deputy ambassador to Earth, had said just before Enterprise launched with its shakedown mission to return Klaang to the Klingon Empire, _'If we hadn't convinced them to let us take Klaang's corpse back to Qo'noS, Earth would most likely be facing a squadron of warbirds by the end of the year._'

Landry had also weighed in with, "Every new first contact you make is a potential enemy, but they can't hurt you badly if they don't know _where_ to hit."

It had been enough to make Jon amend his unofficial First Contact procedures to just mention Earth by name. In retrospect with species like the Klingons and the others with axe to grind…it had been a bit naïve to hope that everyone out here was 'enlightened' or even had the same morality or values. They would see nothing wrong in attacking Sol to get what they wanted…if Earth couldn't defend itself, well then they deserved it…

Jon shook off that thinking.

"Captain Archer," came a deep rumbling voice. Jon started slightly and turned around to see the Jaffa, Teal'C, standing somehow both rigidly and fluidly, ready for action, just like the seasoned warrior he was.

"Oh, sorry, got sidetracked, this view is amazing…" You could see the long dorsal neck of _Odyssey_ and its VLS battery up close. That they were filled with nuclear missiles with unheard of destructive yields, which could glass the surface of planet twice over, gave him a slight case of the creeps. After World War 3, and the recovery, humanity had never sought to improve those horrible weapons – not Terrani Earth – who had never had a WW3. "I always thought a warship wouldn't have windows."

"Most vessels in our Galaxy have them," Teal'C explained. "The Goa'uld, who my people were enslaved to, acted as if they were gods, and their ships were designed according to 'ego' more than practical function. The Goa'uld Mothership is pyramidal, six hundred meters in diameter with a few hundred 'windows' looking out to space."

"I suppose with shields, structural integrity isn't so critical."

That was another thing that had Jon vexed, any warp driven ship's hull design was an artful balance of elements – structural integrity during warp, aesthetics, and combat performance and had to have the strength to endure the natural hazards of space travel. _Odyssey_ had none of that. Her only design philosophy was practicality, space was never 'warped' around her hull therefore, hull geometry vs. warp stress considerations was moot – since according to Colonel Carter, travelling through Hyperspace only needed a Deflector system and that was it.

"Have you given any thought to what you are going to do once you get to Earth?" Jon had clear impressions of what _Odyssey_'s crew would most likely do with their new lives, but Teal'C intentions were still up in the air.

"I've been reviewing the records of your Earth, especially your Starfleet Academy…"

"You want to instruct there?"

"I was once a General commanding a vast army of Jaffa and a great fleet of Goa'uld ships, and have fought many battles…your people's experience in space fleet tactics is…limited, at best."

"I don't doubt that, but I consider it a virtue that we've never had to learn that."

"Indeed, peace is something I too strive for, Captain Archer, but ones vigilance must never wane; I have seen powerful civilizations fall just because of such complacency."

Mitchell entered the Bridge at this moment with his three guests.

"Captain," Malcolm said with a tone of amazement, "you just missed our trip to the Odyssey's armoury, can you believe they still issue armour piercing automatic projectile weaponry for their troops?"

"Really?" Jon reflected at that.

"One of the machine races we've had to fight – the Replicators – is completely impervious to any form of energy based weaponry," Teal'C explained. "They were the primary enemy of the Asgard."

"Yes, lucky for us, those technobugs couldn't initially think of adapting themselves to something as 'primitive' as a slugthrower or shotgun," Mitchell laughed.

"But they did eventually?" Trip enquired curiously.

"They evolved when the Asgard lured them all into a single location and used a Time Dilation field to trap all of them in one swoop. Inside the field, a few minutes would pass, while outside…a few thousand years would go by, giving the Asgard all the time they needed to find a solution to the Replicators once and for all… but it didn't work…why are you guys gaping?"

"Time dilation?" Jon blinked, just when he'd hoped this didn't involve Time travel at all…

"Sure," Mitchell shrugged. "The Asgard could do so, though they never used it…Teal'C, Daniel and Sam once went back twenty nine years into the past, accidentally. Teal'C and General O'Neill were stuck in time once, repeating the same eight hours in loop, for a relative time of six months maybe more. They also once went back over five thousand years in an Alteran Time shuttle we recovered, though we only know that because we found a video tape they left to themselves…" Mitchell laughed at their bewildered expressions. "Causality is an evil mistress, anyway, the Replicators evolved to mimic human form…your Earth had this movie…Terminator 2, know it?"

"Sure, it's a classic," Trip commented, still trying to get over the fact that something as fantastic as time-travel was just another day at the office for their cousins.

"Think of the T-1000, and you've got a good idea of their evolved form and capabilities," Mitchell said darkly. "We then had to turn back to energy weaponry…you saw the smaller guns with the crystal emitters in the tips?" The three Enterprise officers nodded.

"Those are Anti-Replicator rifles, they fire a modulating disruption pulse that permanently knocks out the ability of the individual nanites that make up the Replicator to maintain cohesion. They essentially just turn into a pile of harmless neutronium on the deck floor."

Jon could only think that he better send a recommendation along to Admiral Forrest, it would read, _'We don't listen to our cousins at our own peril, the nightmares they've dealt with, the adventures…we would be fools not to learn from them._'

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_**Enterprise**_** Bridge**

Jon perched on the edge of his Chair, and smiled at the viewscreen, now showing the Bridge of the _Odyssey_, with all its stations manned by its tiny crew.

"_I hope your ship is in satisfactory condition, Captain_," General Landry smiled.

"Everything checked out at better than Starfleet specifications, General. I can't thank you enough."

"_Helping you is helping me and my crew_." Landry was firm as he stated that. "_Thanks for the hospitality on your end as well. I'm sure our paths will cross again in the future."_

"I don't doubt it, General."

"_If you ever need any help out here, just give us a call…you've seen how fast we can go_."

"We'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

"_Have a good journey, _Enterprise. Odyssey_ out_."

The channel closed to be replaced with the view of the impressive battleship as she suddenly accelerated and manoeuvred, pulling a turn that Jon knew Enterprise couldn't match at that speed. Purple energy blossomed in front of the ship and Odyssey's form blurred as it was sucked in by the Hyperspace window…which vanished again.

"Are we ready to get underway?" Jon enquired of all his senior staff, and received firm nods. He tapped the com. "Trip?"

"_We're good down here."_

"Warp five, Travis, resume our original course."

"Warp five," the Helmsman said taking a deep breath, his tone almost reverent.

His ship did a swooping turn and surged physically. There was a snap of light, and the viewscreen suddenly changed to a blurring crescendo of star streaks and colour, passing at an apparent velocity that was visibly faster than the crew had ever seen.

Sixty three million kilometres a second, it was an exhilarating feeling. It would soon be nothing more than a snails pace though.

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_A/N: This sucker popped into my head. I know the clichéd, 'lost in another Universe', has been done before. I've never seen another fic that merges ST & SG in this fashion except for AJW's Destiny's Child. But can you imagine the changes and challenges that are ahead of Star Trek Earth now that the 'Galaxy' is open to them. The Suliban? The Xindi? The Romulans? The Klingons? The Dominion? The Borg? The Q? Not to mention the Temporal Cold War…I'll leave you to imagine the possibilities for mayhem and storytelling. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Captain Benito Ramirez of the Earth Starship _Intrepid_ was vexed and irritated. His ship had been due to embark on a scheduled patrol run to Proxima Colony, which would take a fortnight of travel at his ship's max cruise speed of Warp 3, but he had received an unexpected change of orders by Admiral Forrest – who was coming aboard with an unnamed guest to embark on special mission within the Solar System.

His tightly knit crew of thirty eight grumbled about the vagueness of those orders, but he quickly made sure they canned that attitude, and made arrangements for the Admiral's arrival plus one. Benito stood waiting with his XO, Commander Nickolas Golovkin, by the starboard airlock for the command Shuttlepod to dock.

"Any ideas what the brass has up its sleeve, Commander?"

"Sorry, Capitain," Golovkin shook his head; his Russian accent wasn't as pronounced as it could've been. "I'm as surprised as you at this change of plans. Thought it's clear that it's no ordinary mission; an Admiral doesn't just suddenly board a fleet ship on a whim."

"Yes and add the fact that the orders were heavily encrypted text only communication, and I think we've got an SI mission."

Golovkin barely managed to hold a groan. Starfleet Intelligence had requisitioned the _Intrepid_ on a number of occasions before, mostly to deploy various satellites that not even Captain Ramirez had the clearance to know what purpose it was built for, and the occasional rendezvous with Earth Cargo freighters to pick up returning Agents from the various nearby worlds Earth had interests in or kept a general eye on.

These missions always left the crew with weeks of rampant speculation on what the agent could have been doing or found out…not to mention Golovkin could swear he had once seen an SI agent quickly hide a pair of very well made Vulcan ears on one occasion he had been sent to collect her from her temporary quarters, when they had to make rendezvous with an EC ship on its way to Vulcan.

There was a slight thump that both men could feel through the deck plating, indicating the shuttle docking. Golovkin headed over to the airlock control panel and began the pressurization procedure of the docking sleeve. The master indicator light turned from red to green, and he triggered the outer door…a few moments passed, and the inner door opened.

Admiral Maxwell Forrest was a tall, imposing man, with balding blonde hair and a serious expression etched on his face. The dark blue Admiral uniform with tie and four white cuff rings made him even more the picture perfect visage of a flag officer. Accompanying him was a man slightly shorter than Forrest with cropped grey hair, wearing an all black unadorned leather uniform of sorts that Benito had never seen before.

"Permission to come aboard?" The Admiral asked.

"Granted Admiral Forrest, welcome."

"It's good to see you again, Ramirez. I'm sorry for delaying your mission, but this couldn't wait. Oh, this is Mr Harris from SI; he will be joining us for this little trip."

"Welcome aboard, Mr Harris." Benito was unsurprised that he only received a simple neutral nod in return from the SI Agent.

"We don't have time for all the formalities, Captain, so we'll get straight to the mission," Forrest abruptly began to walk and led the way into the corridors of the ship. "You are to proceed to Mercury at the best impulse speed you can manage, masking your ion trail with a technique Mr Harris will share with your Chief Engineer. You will also secure your subspace com system completely, no com emissions whatsoever."

"Understood, sir," Benito nodded, though he was somewhat alarmed at the precautions, not to mention the destination. What was out there at Mercury that warranted such secrecy? Sol 1 hardly merited any scientific interest, it was the smallest planet of the Terran system, heavily cratered like Luna with regions of smooth plains, and no substantial atmosphere, with surface temperatures ranging from -183 C to as high as 427 Celsius. As such it wasn't prime real estate, due to its proximity to the Sun.

When the four men entered the small Bridge of _Intrepid_, which only had seating for the Helmsman, Captain, and Tactical Officer…the others had to stand at wall stations, he settled into his chair and rapidly set about giving the necessary orders. Harris departed for Engineering without a word afterwards, and Benito was relieved; too many SI agents considered their 'naval' counterparts as a glorified travel service, at least Harris respected the chain of command.

"Captain, with your permission, I must address the Bridge crew." Forrest half-asked, half-ordered. It was one of the iffy parts of command on ships for centuries. A flag officer couldn't just command any ship he stepped on – that was the Captain's job. Ramirez was Master and Commander of _Intrepid _and could technically tell Forrest to take a flying leap out the airlock if he didn't agree with them - although the situation would have to be extreme to do so. Admirals gave strategic orders, not tactical ones.

"Very well, Admiral," Ramirez gestured his acceptance.

"Thank you, Captain." Forrest turned and made sure he caught the attention of everyone. "I'm sure you're all curious about this unexpected detour, but I must order you all not to breathe a word of what you will see to anyone. This is a level Omega classified mission. Meaning you are not even to dream about what you will see in the next hour. Anyone found betraying a word of this to even their mothers, will be not only be cashiered out of Starfleet, but will find themselves in new lifelong UE sponsored accommodations in New Zealand."

Benito shook himself out of his shock, whatever this was; Starfleet was taking it damn seriously to be threatening its own members with lifetime imprisonment in a penal colony if they disobeyed their orders to remain silent.

"Carry out your orders, Captain."

"Yes, sir." Ramirez nodded. "Helm, break orbit, and get us underway at full Impulse."

"Aye sir," his Chief Helmswoman, Ensign Lynette Fulton, responded and her hands danced on the Helm controls.

_Intrepid_ turned in a crisp manoeuvre to a course that would have the ship powering its way over the North Pole and towards the inner planets and the Sun. It would be a short journey of only twenty minutes at Full Impulse, but Ramirez was too busy studying his Engineering feed, rather fascinated at what his engines were doing to mask its own ion trail.

Harris had returned to the Bridge fifteen minutes into the short journey and stood like a statue next to Forrest. Finally…

"Entering standard orbit of Mercury, Captain." Fulton reported.

"Admiral?" Benito queried.

"Mr Harris."

The mysterious SI agent pulled a small device from an inner pocket of his black uniform and handed it to the Admiral. Forrest flipped open a decidedly non-regulation issue communicator that chirped for a brief moment to show it had opened a channel.

"This is Forrest, to _Odyssey_, are you out there?"

Benito frowned…there was no ship in Starfleet called _Odyssey_…before he could ponder it further, a male voice emitted from the strange communicator.

"_We're here, actually been here for over a week, you certainly took your time…_"

"It wasn't easy to arrange for our rendezvous to go unnoticed, not to mention the other elements of our arrangement," Forrest countered.

"_Yes, I understand, it must have taken some doing to put one over those Vulcans, given their level of presence in Sol. So is our contact ready?_"

"He's standing right next to me."

"_To your left or right?"_

"Right."

"_Okay, we've got a lock on him. Stand by_."

"I hope to speak to you soon in person."

"_So do I, there's a lot to discuss._" The mysterious voice of the com device said. Forrest nodded at Harris, who only nodded stoically back and seemed to visibly brace himself. It started as a strong hum, almost sounding like a drum that had gonged, Benito flinched as white light suddenly seemed to sprout from Harris' chest, that in an eyeblink spread to the rest of his body. The SI agent's form seemed to compress and then vanished into nothing with a near musical crescendo.

"_We have him safe and sound, Admiral, see you soon."_

Benito shook off his amazement only to realize that Harris must have had been _beamed_ somewhere, but that was the fastest and unusual Matter-Energy transport he had ever witnessed. But where had he gone? There were no ships or space stations out here…was there?

"Forrest out." The Admiral flipped the communicator shut and pocketed it. "Our mission is done, Captain. Head back to Earth, I'll take the shuttle back down to San Francisco myself. You may resume your previous mission as soon as I undock from _Intrepid_."

Benito only hesitated a few moments before complying. He wondered what sort of clandestine op was going on, that Starfleet felt it couldn't even involve the Vulcans. He sighed and resigned himself to endure another two long weeks of speculation from his crew on the mysterious detour to Mercury.

8888888888888888888

_**Odyssey**_** Engineering Control**

"Are you certain, Colonel?" Hank Landry felt as if his stomach had dropped to the floor and a hand was squeezing his heart.

"I've been running simulation after simulation, and referencing every scrap of research the Asgard has ever done on the subject of a different quantum realities, over the past week. I've even referenced the partial Alteran database we have on board, since they were the ones who built that Quantum Mirror Daniel used to travel to that alternate reality." Sam shook her head and wiped away a stray tear from her eyes. "Even if we build a Drive that replicates that effect, the Time aspect means we will return to a point in 2152 – everyone we knew would be dead and buried, if Earth still exists and hasn't been destroyed or converted by the Ori. There's also no conceivable way for us to navigate to the correct reality…since we're talking about an infinite number of variations and divergences."

"So we're never getting back?" Cam said flatly. "Not even with all this fancy tech."

"Even the Asgard had limitations, Cam." She suddenly gave a rue half-smile. "Though on the bright side, there will be Universes where this didn't happen to us."

"Well, speaking as someone who's spoken to over a hundred different versions of myself, that is _not_ us. Our Universe will just consider us MIA, or KIA."

"So we're actually going to have to live out the rest of our lives in this place?" Vala frowned at them. "No, second chances, no miracle rescues or technology…we're stuck, for sure."

"I'm afraid so," nodded Sam, looking miserable now. "It's my…"

"No!" Hank snapped at her sternly. "It's not your fault, the responsibility belongs to the future you, and from what you've told me I doubt even she could've predicted this eventuality."

"_Teal'C to Engineering_."

"Go ahead," Landry tapped his com earpiece.

"_A vessel is approaching our position from Earth_."

"We're on our way." He stared at the others. "Seems Forrest finally managed it."

"Are we sure this is wise?" Daniel spoke up worriedly.

"It's best to maintain absolute secrecy, if we want to blend in to this Earth," Hank said unhappily. "After studying the Vulcan and Starfleet databases on the races in this region, we'd not want word of _Odyssey_ to get out in an uncontrolled manner."

They walked up to the Bridge, and took their stations.

"Bring the ship up on Tactical."

The screen to the left of the Bridge windows, changed from its default display of a ship diagnostic to show an image of a hundred and fifty meter ship – with a half-saucer shape, small secondary hull, and nacelles swept slightly upward to half in line with the saucer. It definitely looked like a predecessor to the _Enterprise_, in terms of design elements at least. It was the most numerous ship class in Starfleet, the NZ, in addition to their sleek Warp Fighters, NF class.

"They're armed similarly to _Enterprise_, phase cannons and torpedoes." Carter reported. "They're entering orbit…and we're being hailed."

Landry's conversation with Forrest occurred, whilst Sam aligned and triggered the transporter which left a rather startled Mr Harris, from a deeply covert section of Starfleet Intelligence on the Bridge.

"We have him safe and sound, Admiral, see you soon." Hank said, eyeing the agent with an assessing stare.

'_Forrest out._' The channel shut down.

"Welcome to the _Odyssey_, Mr Harris."

"It's a distinct pleasure to be here," the man gave a lopsided grin, eyeing the Bridge and then turned to look out the window at the view of Mercury. "You were within twenty kilometres of _Intrepid_ and they never knew; Cloaking sure comes in handy."

"That it does, Mr Harris."

"Is there some place where we can talk?"

88888888

_**Enterprise**_**, 110 LY from Earth, Terran System Designation **_**Decrux**_

**Main ****Engineering**

"_We're a few minutes out from the Deuterium colony, Captain."_

"Prepare to take us out of Warp," Jon tapped on the com. He turned to his friend. "So?"

"We've run five full power tests on the shields, everything's in the green, even that modification that will effectively turn it into a Cloak ran perfectly in simulation; however, it's a one or the other thing – shield or cloak, not both and our hull polarization has less power to work with now, so we've lost some effectiveness on it." Trip shrugged.

Jon nodded, well it couldn't be helped and polarized plating could only take you so far. "Our other systems?"

"We still have to run live fire tests on our new triphase cannons, and anti-matter torpedoes, but the simulations show us hitting our targets every time."

"Then let's hope no one is stupid enough to pick a fight with us."

88888888888

Jon accompanied Trip and T'Pol down to the surface in Shuttlepod One, scans from orbit had shown that the colony was mainly a semi-arid world; therefore they were wearing Starfleet desert fatigues, whilst T'Pol donned a white version of her Vulcan uniform which also had desert conditions in mind.

The colony itself was actually quite small. Scans from orbit had shown barely a hundred lifesigns, and now up close, Jon could see a town of rather ramshackle prefab dwellings arranged in a radial pattern around a central street, with large girders laid down between them. From the amount of activity, Jon could clearly see that they had been spotted by the colonists. He guided the Shuttlepod to a smooth landing on the outskirts of the town.

Jon and Trip had barely stepped a few meters from the shuttlepod before they were confronted by two of the alien colonists; they were humanoid, but with clear differences in facial appearance and rather smaller than either men. Their clothes were basic and rough looking, and smeared with dust and various synthetic fluids – no doubt from the machinery they used to refine deuterium.

"My name is Captain Archer from the starship _Enterprise_. We tried to hail you, but there was no response." The UTs in their pockets had been programmed by the Kreetassans after the recent diplomatic visit their homeworld – so Hoshi was not necessary for this trading excursion.

"Our communications are down." The alien replied shortly.

"That must make it difficult to do business. A Kreetassan merchant told us this was a deuterium facility." Jon pointed out as T'Pol made her exit from the Shuttlepod.

"He was correct." The alien conceded with reluctance.

"Our ship took some damage few weeks ago. We lost most of our reserves." Trip explained, hoping it would perhaps smooth things over. It didn't work.

"I'm sorry, but we can't help you. Two of our pumps are offline. You'll have to return later in the season."

"Our supply will be gone in less than two weeks." Jon explained. He could certainly, if all else failed, ask Admiral Forrest to send _Odyssey_ to rendezvous and top up _Enterprise_' tanks, but it was a simple situation and he didn't want _Odyssey_ to bail him out except in dire emergencies. They could also create molecular deuterium using the UC, but it would only use up more power, hence more deuterium, at a faster rate than before….and it would give diminishing returns.

"There's nothing we can do."

"Are you certain? You seem to have a large inventory. Our sensors showed over eighty thousand litres." T'Pol pointed out stoically.

"You scanned our tanks?" The alien clearly took offence at this.

"I apologise, but when you didn't respond to our hails, we had to make sure this was indeed a deuterium refinery and that we weren't misled. You sure you couldn't spare a few hundred litres?"

"We're holding that for someone else. Come back at the end of the season. I'm sure we'll be able to accommodate you." That was the yellow haired alien's final word on the subject and he began to walk away.

His associate however, with dark hair, looked thoughtfully at them before saying, "Do you have any experience repairing extraction pumps?"

"Not specifically, but I could grab some tools and take a look." Trip piped up helpfully, sensing the opening. Deuterium for repairs, Jon could live with that.

"We get those pumps operating, we can make our quota." The second alien pointed out to his dismissive colleague.

"It seems that there might be an opportunity for us to help each other," Jon smiled.

"Follow me," the first alien conceded, clearly seeing the logic in the proposal.

8888888888

When Trip reached the shuttlepod to get his tools, he did not expect to find its pilot's seat occupied. A male alien child was at the helm, Trip judged him barely seven years old, at least by human standards. The kid was making rather cute shooting noises and pretending to pilot the pod. Trip lost his amusement quickly when he realized the damage the kid could do if he mucked around pressing buttons. He bent into the pod hatch and triggered the impulse startup – the computer bleeped warnings against doing that whilst on the ground – but Trip shut it down immediately.

The kid gasped and he pulled his hands away from the controls.

"What are you doing in my chair?" Trip asked sternly.

The kid whirled around and his frightened expression was apparent on his alien features.

"I didn't touch anything. I just like to look inside the ships that come here."

"You should have asked."

"You might have said no," the kid countered stubbornly.

"Well, what do you think?" Trip gestured to the pod interior.

"Well, it's a little small and your thruster controls are hard to reach," the kid pronounced as if he was the expert on all things to do with ships.

"Maybe you need longer arms." Trip grinned now.

"How fast can it go?" the kid asked eagerly.

"She's designed for point oh six of light speed, but, I've been able to squeeze a little more out of her."

"You're a pilot?"

"Engineer. Commander Trip Tucker."

"Q'ell." The kid pointed at himself.

"Nice to meet you."

"Could you teach me how to fly it? I can drive the crawler that we use to move our drill rigs."

"Tell you what. I'll be heading back up to the ship later. You can come along, if it's all right with your folks. I'll give you a tour." Trip said as he grabbed his tool belt and kit from the pod storage locker.

"Really?" Q'ell looked like he was about to get a trip to Disneyland for the first time.

"Come along."

888888888888888888

Jon had imagined he would have to barter with alien cultures for necessities when he set out with _Enterprise_ on its exploratory mission, but he had not imagined driving this kind of hard bargain. Yes, his ship had a Universal Constructor now, thanks to Odyssey and their extra-galactic cousins, but that just turned _Enterprise i_nto a ship that valued its energy supplies, instead of its material stores.

Tessic, the leader of the colony, was a clear no-nonsense person. He was curt and abrupt, but from the existence Jon saw they had to eke out, he didn't blame the alien for his attitude.

"Two power cells?" Tessic shook his head. "We need six."

"We can't spare that many. Maybe three." Jon proposed.

"Do you have any idea how much labour it takes to refine a litre of deuterium?" Tessic reposed.

"Actually, no. I'd enjoy seeing how your facility works." Jon grinned disarmingly. Tessic clearly wasn't affected or he didn't understand the facial expression.

"We have three months of good weather, Captain. Three months to pump all the deuterium we can before the winter. We don't have time to give tours. Five power cells for two hundred litres. I can't do any better."

"Our medical stores are running low." E'lis suggested to Tessic, she was closest thing the colony had to a doctor.

"Four power cells and whatever medical supplies we can spare." Jon leaped on the opportunity immediately.

"All right." Tessic grumbled. "But only if you can repair our pumps."

"Commander Tucker and his team will do the best they can." Jon resolved to kick Trip in the ass if he couldn't pull it off, but he was confident in his friend and Chief Engineer. Trip hadn't yet met a piece of machinery he couldn't master; since he had with instructions provided to Jon by the Temporal Agent Daniels, built a Sensor Beacon centuries in advance of current technology that had allowed _Enterprise_ to see through Suliban Cloaking.

"I expect you to leave orbit in two days. If the pumps are working, you'll leave with the deuterium. If not, you'll leave without it. Are we agreed?"

Jon frowned at that odd condition. Was Tessic expecting someone? Jon resolved to mull over that later, but he sensed that this was as good as the deal would get. "Agreed."

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_**Enterprise**_** Sickbay**

Doctor Phlox looked with amusement as E'lis stared warily at the tank that contained the Edosian sea star. To Phlox's own sensibilities, the alien was slightly too…reserved. She only spoke when necessary…perhaps it was a social characteristic of their species; perhaps they had no similar concept of human 'small talk'.

"It's yours, if you'd like it." Phlox grinned hugely.

"I wouldn't know what to feed it." E'lis rubbed her prominent forehead ridges, perhaps in a subconscious gesture of nervousness.

"Her needs are modest. A nutrient broth very three or four days. Less often when she's working." Phlox explained easily.

"Working?"

"She'll ingest a little blood while she's healing an injured artery."

"Thank you, but I'll just take some vascular adhesive." The alien shook her head, clearly not liking the idea of using the seastar.

"Try this, instead." Phlox reached over and deposited the pistol like medical device directly into her hand.

"An auto-suture," E'lis said wonderingly, clearly taken aback.

"I'm surprised you don't have one," Phlox stated, wondering what a doctor from a full blown refining facility was doing without one. Did they not come properly prepared to this world?

"This is a very expensive piece of equipment. I can't." E'lis tried to decline.

"Nonsense. Please." Phlox insisted, pushing the device into the large duffel bag E'lis had squeezed all the other medical supplies into. Speaking of which, her choice of supplies was rather odd. "I had no idea processing deuterium was such a dangerous business."

"It can be." E'lis said flatly. Phlox didn't need his six degrees in psychology and inter-species psychology to interpret that she was very uncomfortable talking in this direction.

"I've only heard of hexatriol being used to treat serious plasma burns," Phlox probed wonderingly.

"Our equipment is getting rather old, we're still saving up to purchase replacements, in the meantime things…can get a little dangerous," E'lis explained.

"I hope you won't need it. Is there something wrong?" Phlox asked, seeing what he thought was some reluctance on her face.

"No. I'd better get back." She seemingly shook herself and firmly turned around picking up the large duffel bag.

"Of course." Phlox said amiably.

"Thank you again." She disappeared through the large hermetically sealed glassed double autodoors of Sickbay. Phlox had heard of the demand that _Enterprise_ could not remain here for longer than two days, coupled with this; he could only conclude that there was something not right with this colony.

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Jon walked with his first officer under the blazing sun of Decrux. T'Pol seemed perfectly at ease in the scorching weather, in fact, she seemed almost to be 'invigorated' by it – he had never been there, but knew that Vulcan was a harsh desert world. To Jon's eyes this was semi-arid at best, so perhaps she thought of this as he would think of a pleasant temperate countryside.

His musing were interrupted by a banging of the door on one of the prefab structures… it was almost loose on its hinges, and had been pushed closed by a gust of wind. That was another thing that was troubling him - on closer inspection the settlement looked to be almost on the verge of falling apart.

"You've been to other colonies that trade refined deuterium, haven't you?"

"Several," T'Pol confirmed.

"Are they all this rustic?"

"Not usually."

"Their equipment's falling apart. Half these structures look like they're about to collapse. Phlox tells me they don't even have basic medical supplies. Starships need deuterium; therefore, you'd think these people would be better off."

"We're here to trade with them, not judge their living conditions." T'Pol countered.

"Then why do they need us to finish fixing their pumps in two days? What's the hurry?"

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_**Enterprise**_** Bridge**

Travis Mayweather, dutifully keeping Enterprise in a stable orbit, frowned as his sensor feed beeped a warning at him.

"Lieutenant, a ship just dropped out of warp. Six hundred thousand kilometres and closing."

Lt Reed was in command, since the top three officers were down on the planet, though he always kept his seat at the Tactical station. The Lieutenant was a firm believer that only the Captain sat in the Big Chair.

"I see her," he confirmed.

Travis stared at the visual sensors focused on the thing – it looked like a blend between a cargo ship and a warship, it had modules slung under its main neck, but had a green hull and geometries that only an alien ship could possess. It was lumbering its way towards orbit at slightly less than a quarter impulse.

"It's probably more deuterium customers," Hoshi reasoned from her own station.

"Yes, that may be," confirmed Lt Reed, "I've cross-referenced the design to the Vulcan database…it a D5 tanker variant."

"Klingons," Travis declared grimly. "What are they armed with, sir?"

"Two fore and aft mid-range yield particle cannons only, you can relax Ensign, they were no match for us even before our recent upgrades," Reed explained. "And we can run rings around them, if their current pace is any indication."

Beep, beep, beep.

"We've just been noticed." Hoshi reported.

Another alarm sounded.

"Energy surge. They're charging their weapons! I'm raising our shields…they're up. Battle Stations!" Reed exclaimed in baffled and frustrated manner. Travis shared it; surely the Klingons realized they were badly outgunned. Lights on the Bridge dimmed and red lights began flashing in response to the Lieutenants order, which he had called over shipwide.

"_Archer to Enterprise."_

"Little busy up here, sir. The Klingons have charged weapons."

"_Understood, do what you have to do_." The Captain ordered and the com line went silent.

"Ensign, hail them." Reed ordered hurriedly.

"Aye," Hoshi's hands began working furious on her board and after a few nervous moments, shook her head. "No response."

"Three hundred thousand kilometres and closing…" Travis reported.

"They've sped up, red lining their engines, one half impulse."

"Are they insane? They have sensors; surely they can tell we could blow them into space dust if we wanted?" Hoshi wondered.

"I can only guess their motivations, and don't particularly care," Lieutenant Reed declared calmly, "but they're going to have to fire first."

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The lumbering Klingon ship entered reliable weapons range at fifty thousand kilometres, and its two fore particle cannons lashed out in bright beams of green. The energy flared _Enterprise_' shields into the visible spectrum as it bled the offensive energy harmlessly off into space, with negligible drain.

Only now did the Earth exploration cruiser power its own triphase cannons, which under Lt Reed's aim, shot ruby shafts of phasing particle energy to collide with the D5 freighter's own shields. The Klingon shields were old, and were salvaged for use by them on the ship, hence, they were overloaded and the generators destroyed within two shots from _Enterprise_.

Malcolm Reed was not content to leave the Klingons at that point, since those particle cannons of the freighter could be turned on the colony from orbit. _Enterprise_ swooped in a dorsal attack run over the vessel and pin point weapons fire swiftly destroyed the weapons of the Klingon freighter. Two more beams hit the Klingon warp nacelles and as a coup the grace, a torpedo specially calibrated fired from Enterprise' aft launcher – and reduced the Impulse engines of the freighter to slag.

It listed initially but recovered its orbit by manoeuvring thrusters, which Malcolm was thankful to see his sensors showed still working. Disabling a ship is a tricky business of guesswork most of the time; on where systems were located, sensors could only tell you so much…he was somewhat grateful that the Klingons were not spiralling to their death. They weren't at war with the Klingons after all – and while their logs would prove that the freighter fired first – Malcolm knew that those warlike brutes wouldn't listen, it wasn't in their nature.

"Enterprise to Captain Archer," Malcolm said after Hoshi opened a channel.

"_What's happening, Lieutenant?"_

"The Klingons fired on us first, we disabled them, sir; main power, weapons, sublight, and warp drives are down, they're not going anywhere, Captain. They've got life support, auxiliary power and thrusters, that's it."

"_I take it our upgrades performed well, then?"_

"As advertised, sir," Malcolm replied with satisfaction evident in his voice.

"_Good, it seems these Klingons were bullying the colonists into handing over most of their deuterium with hardly any proper compensation. They also believed they had an exclusive agreement as sole customers…which I think, is why they opened fire."_

"Hardly honourable conduct for a warrior race that prides itself on it, Captain," Malcolm mused.

"_Exactly, which is why T'Pol thinks they're not really affiliated with the Klingon High Council, so you can relax Malcolm, you didn't start a war._"

"So what do we do about the Klingons now, they'll start to effect repairs…"

"_I've got an idea about that_."

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In one of the prefab modules Jon flipped closed his communicator. Tessic, E'lis and Maklii, (the effective second in charge of the settlement) all looked at him with astonishment. Tessic gathered his wits about him immediately though. "If you have hand weapons in that shuttle of yours, Captain. I suggest you get it…the only thing on their minds will be revenge now, they'll try to Transport down first thing."

"They shouldn't be able to do that without main power," Jon pointed out.

"No, but I don't pretend to know the first thing about Klingon technology, Captain, and prefer to be cautious."

Jon saw the logic and nodded to T'Pol before running out the module, whilst quickly getting on his communicator again and telling Trip to get to the shuttlepod weapons locker, since he was closer.

Tessic's decision was prescient. Barely five minutes later, red energetic light materialized out of nowhere, right in the centre of the settlement. It resolved itself very quickly into a seven foot tall, hairy, chocolate skinned humanoid, with overly pronounced cranial ridges. The Klingon was clothed in hairy leathers…the large disruptor in his right hand, and curved bladed weapon in the other completed the ensemble.

His enraged screaming was a sight to behold. "WHO are the P'tahs who dares usurp our fuel and fires on our ship?!" Another Klingon materialized next to him a moment later. Jon figured that perhaps they could only go one at a time…in any event it was time to end this.

He popped from his concealment behind a module and his phase pistol spat a beam that hit the Klingon square over the chest. Trip and T'Pol emerged and did the same to the other Klingon that had come down. And so it continued…a Klingon would beam down and barely before they could even think of raising a disruptor, they were hit with multiple beams set on stun. T'Pol had expressed her concern that Klingon physiology would need more of a jolt than the stun setting provided, so they used weight of fire to get over that problem.

In the end, fourteen Klingons lay in a heap of unconscious bodies. They waited, waited, no more came.

"Archer to Enterprise."

"_Reed here, sir."_

"Are there any more lifesigns on the ship?"

"_None, sir."_

"I want you to take a boarding party over to it, secure it as best you are able. Do an inventory of what they have in their holds."

"_Aye, sir. Anything else?"_

"Send the second shuttlepod down, we're going to move some uninvited guests to their new home."

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Jon, T'Pol and Trip stood next to the open hatch of the shuttlepod, lying prone a good ten meters away, was the leader of the Klingon marauders, Korok. It had taken a fair bit of heavy grunt work and constant back and forth trips with both shuttlepods – they'd even had to stun most of the Klingons again, as they recovered – but Jon's solution had been implemented.

He wouldn't execute the Klingons for piracy, which was what they essentially were doing to Tessic and the colonists – this wasn't the seventeenth century after all. He had asked T'Pol what Vulcans would do to pirates. She had said simply.

'Pirates don't attack Vulcan ships or colonies.'

It would be nice if Earth could engender that same kind of simple rule of self-preservation on the part of pirates and marauders. '_Attack us at your own peril_.' Guess he would have to start with this lot.

Korok awoke after another twenty minutes of patient waiting on their part. The Klingon was on his feet in an instant, and had reared to attack them again with his bare hands – but stopped short at the sight of three phase pistols aimed unerringly at him.

"Welcome to you new home, Korok," Jon said coldly, gesturing to the grassland landscape around them. They were on the edge of a deep valley, and had scattered the fourteen Klingons all over it. "We're on a northern continent of the planet where you attacked my ship. It's isolated by a few hundred miles of water, so you can't bother the colonists you've been harassing by trekking back to them."

"You are marooning us, human?!" Korok snarled the question.

"Exactly," Jon narrowed his eyes. "In my judgement as Captain of a vessel you attacked for no other reason than your own wounded pride that you were not the exclusive customer of Tessic – you and your crew are condemned to live out the rest of your days on this planet. If you can't be a responsible member of the interstellar community then you don't belong in it."

"There is a cache of food that should last three months in the centre of this valley," T'Pol spoke up next. "I know of Klingon survival training, that is enough time for you to fashion your own weapons and our scans show that there is plentiful wildlife on this continent…you will not starve."

"Get walking," Jon growled, gesturing with his pistol.

Korok howled in anger finally before whirling around and walking away.

"Let's get out of here."

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**Deuterium Settlement**

"Unless you're planning to join Starfleet I'm afraid you'll have to give up that chair."

Trip grinned at Q'ell, who was again seated on the pilot seat of Shuttlepod One.

"I wish you didn't have to leave."

"Yeah, that's one of the tough things about my job. Saying goodbye to people like you and your friends. So what did you think of Enterprise?"

"Not as big as most, but you hurt a Klingon ship badly, not many can do that."

"Yeah, we can look after ourselves, and now you can too." Trip had for the past four days felt more like a gunsmith than an engineer. Taking apart, repairing and replacing the parts for old and mostly malfunctioning pulse and plasma weapons the colonists owned. Next time any pirates came a calling they would be in for one hell of surprise. "Oh, yeah, that reminds me." He pulled out a Padd and handed it over to the delighted boy. "Basic schematics for _Enterprise_. You said you like to look at starships. This one'll knock your socks off."

"Thanks. Do you think you'll come back?"

"Who knows? Our engines need a lot of deuterium."

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Jon looked over the massive containers brimming with top grade deuterium and turned to Tessic with a quizzical look. "There is more than a thousand litres here."

"Four thousand," Tessic grinned.

"Our deal was for two hundred."

"Our deal was for power cells, medical supplies and repair work. You provided us with much more than that. Gave us back our livelihood and the ability to defend ourselves. Not to mention all the cargo in the Klingon ship for all the previous times they robbed us."

"What are you going to do with their ship?" Maklii asked curiously.

"We'll be spending a few extra days in orbit, studying it and its databanks, then we'll put it on autopilot and send it into the System primary."

"A fitting end. Give your crew our thanks."

"Have a good season." Jon nodded at them as he climbed into Shuttlepod One.

A few moments later it lifted off and ascended back into the heavens.

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**San Francisco, Earth**

Seeing this Earth was like something out of a dream. Sam had to occasionally pinch herself as she walked through the streets and saw the people walking back and forth, going about their business, personal shuttles speeding through designated air lanes, large intercontinental passenger liners hovering over the Golden Gate. Buildings that kept the flavour and soul of the original San Francisco she remembered yet made with high tech materials. It reminded her of Hebridan and Tollana in her own Universe – where humans had advanced considerably.

There was also the occasional alien, which made it rather surreal. Vulcans, were of course, the most numerous – but there was also Denobulans and few others sprinkled here and there…mostly doing trade and so on.

Starfleet Command and the Academy, well, now that was an impressive place and beautiful. The huge campus overlooked San Francisco Bay and she could only imagine having to spend four years as a cadet in such a pristine place. Not that the cadets were soft or pampered in any way – Starfleet Academy to her felt like the USAF Academy except teaching pure spaceflight, warp mechanics and science instead of merely aerospace operations and combat courses.

Admiral Forrest had given her a VIP pass to get a tour of the place along with Teal'C, Cam, Vala, and Daniel.

The five of them, dressed in rather snug stylish civilian clothes stopped at an observation deck looking over the bay. It was nearing spring, so it was still a little chilly and the wind carried a slight cold sting to it.

"Now this is a nice planet," Vala declared immediately.

"It is," agreed Daniel wistfully. "Makes me hope _our_ Earth can do the same eventually."

"Don't forget, these folks fought a Third World War, we haven't…didn't, won't, ah hell, all you're seeing is a brand spankin new world that's risen out of its ashes, like a phoenix, they also had a little help from the Vulcans doing it," Cam reasoned.

"But it's still amazing, nevertheless, a united world government, no war, no hunger, everyone who wants a job can get one…in fact, I hear there's a shortage of labour in Sol."

"Speaking of labour, when are we getting assigned to our own new jobs and the houses and credits to go with it?" Vala enquired eagerly

"It seems one thing is Multiversal, red tape," Sam laughed ruefully. "It'll be another two weeks for us playing tourist, before we get our commissions in SI. I think out of all of you, I'm going to be the busiest, not to mention the General."

"He was due to meet with General Casey yesterday, wasn't he? How'd that go?" Cam asked.

"Well, according to Hank," Sam smiled. "All it took was a tour of _Odyssey_, and Casey was convinced on the merits of cooperating with us. They're both now going to work on a System defence plan for Sol using the technologies we brought with us."

"Speak for yourself, Sam," Daniel grinned. "I'm going to be up to my eyeballs in studying Exo-linguistics and archaeology for Starfleet."

"And can you believe that Mr Harris actually wants me to teach my wily ways to his people," Vala declared smugly, looking at Daniel – who only rolled his eyes in response.

Sam felt a frission of discomfort at the thought – Section 31 reminded her of a light side version of the National Intelligence Directorate only with a lot more power to operate all over the globe and even beyond. It had been one of the only 'snags' to their deal with Forrest and Starfleet – all of the _Odyssey Six_ - as they now thought of themselves - were now titular Section 31 operatives – since their background histories had to be fabricated and inserted into official records.

Sam, Hank, Cam and Teal'C had their ranks transferred over to a 'Naval' form – she would now be Captain Carter of Starfleet Intelligence – Science Division. Hank would be Admiral Landry, whilst Cam would also be a Captain. He would be assigned to the Starfleet Fighter program to bring the _Odyssey _technologies into it and his own combat experience in the F302.

Sam looked at Teal'C and her eyes still couldn't help but gravitate towards the smooth forehead that he now sported. It was so odd, seeing him without the mark of Apophis, but it would draw too much attention otherwise – and he couldn't wear a hat all the time. The procedure to remove it was quite simple in retrospect…they had asked the Asgard Core for a device that could remove the gold alloy and heal the skin and tissue underneath as it went. The result was a device that had aspects of a transporter and a hand healing device all rolled into one – and barely two applications later – the mark was gone. _Captain _Teal'C would soon be, as he desired, an instructor in personal defence for Starfleet Academy.

"So where do we go next? We've seen pretty much all of San Fran," Cam pondered.

"I've always wanted to go that place…hmmm…what was it, ah, Hawaii," Vala piped up.

"Hawaii, it is."

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_A/N: As you can see I'm starting the AU aspects already, although the alternate Marauder episode is just me fixing logical aspects of the story I didn't like. Like how the Klingon D5 tanker couldn't detect Enterprise the instant it came out of warp. Five hundred thousand K is less than two light seconds, visual sensors alone should have spotted Enterprise almost instantly. Archer deciding to maroon the Klingons in punishment is the most 'humane' solution – to protect the colonists and it rids the region of a bunch of pirates and Starfleet gets technical intel on a Klingon ship in the bargain._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Next you have a briefing with Ambassador Soval." The lieutenant junior grade rattled off the list as they sped down the halls of Starfleet Headquarters. "From there you're meeting with Captain Jefferies on the acceleration of NX Class construction, redesign and refit, followed by a briefing concerning the Vulcan/Andorian situation."

Admiral Forrest continued down the hall, moving at his now customary speed, which was twice the pace he used to walk before _Enterprise_ started its mission. The itinerary never mattered this early in the morning, as it was bound to change a half dozen times before he even made it to his next destination. Checking the time, Forrest noted that technically his workday wasn't even supposed to have begun yet and he was already running fifteen minutes late.

"... Afterward you have a brief meet-and-greet scheduled with the newest group of cadets, and that brings us to lunch." The lieutenant looked as if he was already exhausted. Forrest had to give the kid credit. As keeper of the schedule, he was the first one in the office in the mornings and the last one out at night. Of course, most of the stress in the lieutenant's life came from the fact that he revered the schedule as if it were written on stone tablets as opposed to being a general _guide_ to the day, merely _suggesting_ things that the admiral was supposed to do.

Dismissing his aide and entering his office, Admiral Forrest took a deep breath, wishing he had an hour to relax before he was expected to be in his next meeting. Maybe he should look into asking Col…_Captain_ Carter installing one of their Asgard derived Transporters in his office and he could just beam himself from meeting to meeting.

Thinking of the six newest citizens of United Earth and the wonders they had brought with them from _outside_ the galaxy never failed to send a tremor of amazement and excitement down his spine. The sheer possibilities for the future that they heralded were breathtaking.

He stood, looking out the window at the San Francisco Bay, wishing that the damn window opened so he could at least get some fresh air. Although there was a ton of work on his desk, he didn't really have anything pressing to look over contrary to what he had told his aide. He simply needed to take a few minutes for himself before the day began to overwhelm him right out of the starting gate. But as he stood looking out at the beautiful vista, the voice in the back of his head kept nagging at him that he should get to work.

Sitting behind his desk, he did a quick scan through his computer to make sure nothing important had come overnight. Pleasingly, he found nothing more than the usual memos and reports.

Never one to sit idly, even when relaxing, Forrest took a moment to look over the latest ship reports. The NX-02 _Columbia_ was well under construction, in Spacedock 2 – the pace had been increased almost by four hundred percent…all thanks to the Universal ME Constructor, a nice welcome home gift from the _Odyssey_. If all went to plan she would be finished by the end of the year – and would be capable of both Warp FTL and Hyperspace. Captain Carter had just last week joined and briefed the construction teams on the radical new concept of starship propulsion and a few other new experimental technologies that they would be integrating into _Columbia_. The reaction of the Engineers had been one for the record books apparently, and made Forrest wish he'd been there with a vidcam.

His desk com beeped. '_Sir, Ambassador Soval is here_.'

"Send him in."

The double doors opened and permitted the entrance of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth; dressed in his usual finery with a green outer robe over fine over sized tunic and trousers. Occasionally it reminded him of the traditional garb of wizards as shown in the Tolkien mythos. His features were lighter than most Vulcans – a product of twenty eights years' residence on Earth with its much more forgiving sun. It surprised Forrest that he was meeting without his subordinate.

"Ambassador Soval, welcome."

"Admiral Forrest," came the crisp, flawless pronunciation. "I am here today because of a routine report Sub-Commander T'Pol sent to me, that contained rather…fascinating information."

Forrest raised his eyebrows at hearing that descriptor from Soval. _That's about as emotional as you'd ever get from him_, he thought. "_Odyssey_," he nodded with a sigh, he'd been expecting this…it wasn't as though Archer could gag his own XO from reporting to her nominal superiors. "What is Vulcan interested in specifically? Although I can guess…"

"We request that Earth reciprocate in regards to the Odyssey technology."

"You want Hyperdrive," Forrest tented his fingers. "And access to the crew of Odyssey?"

"We merely want our scientists already on Earth to participate in Hyperspace development as well, so both our worlds can eventually benefit. The potential of this new technology is great and the consequences of using it will be equally great."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Forrest agreed. "I'll speak to the Command Council and the Prime Minister. I don't foresee that they will object."

Soval bowed his head slightly in thanks – it was an Earth custom that Forrest noted the Vulcan had picked up in the last few years. He would never say…'Thank you' out loud, as that implied he felt grateful and Vulcans aren't supposed to feel anything.

"My next concern is with regards to any weapon technology you might derive from the Odyssey knowledge base. Vulcan hopes that you and Starfleet will not…I believe the Terran expression is…_get a big head_…and interfere and impose in affairs that doesn't concern Earth."

"We are not the Klingons, Ambassador," Forrest retorted immediately. "Any weaponry we develop will be for defensive purposes only. We don't want to get involved in conflict. But as you well know, Ambassador, the Quadrant is a volatile place." Forrest didn't have to elaborate on that truth further. _Enterprise_ already had three First Contacts that were hostile right off the bat, all of whom the Vulcans had never encountered before. The ship had barely escaped intact on all three occasions.

Soval seemingly accepted that and the meeting turned to more mundane matters; it surprised Forrest somewhat. He'd been expecting Soval to be more…vocal in his concerns. He, like Jonathan Archer held a deep seated resentment of Vulcan 'guidance' or 'interference'. The only difference was that unlike Archer, Forrest was more reserved in his opinions and rarely gave voice to them. It would've alienated him from the Command Council – who Forrest was finally thankful to see were growing some backbone and didn't have the blind trust in Vulcans anymore – it was ironic that it was primarily Archer's exploits that was the cause of that.

When their meeting concluded and the Ambassador had left, Forrest stood at the windows pensively.

'_Will we grow arrogant?_' he thought to himself. Privately, he knew the chance was very, very slim. To be out there, among the stars, exploring was something every member of Starfleet wished he or she could be doing. Not conquering, or telling others how to live their lives. It made him think of a conversation he'd had with Archer earlier in the year, when _Enterprise_ had encountered the pre-warp Valakis – a post industrial age species suffering from genetic degradation. Archer had been initially inclined to help, but then the discovery of the Menk (another species evolved on the same planet and who were not suffering from the degradation) complicated things.

Drafting some form of directive to guide Starfleet Captains in their decisions as they affected other species seemed all of a sudden like a very good idea…not to mention a priority, with the advent of Hyperdrive; which would open up the Galaxy to Starfleet and now the Vulcans as well…perhaps he could consult with Soval on drafting it…

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_**Enterprise**_

T'Pol of Vulcan lay on her bed in her relatively large quarters on board the Earth exploratory cruiser, reading an old favourite Vulcan literary classic. It was one of the few 'illogical' things she allowed herself. Her eidetic memory was very good as it was rated amongst Vulcans, and once she learned or read something she never forgot it, but reading the book about the Time of Awakening, always served to fill a 'longing' of a less complicated time, before she left her home, before her training, and navigating the intricacies of Vulcan society.

The computer terminal at her desk suddenly bleeped an alarm. She snapped the book closed, placing it on her bed, and fluidly rose from it towards the desk in the corner of the room. Her fingers began to tap on the control keyboard, engaging the encryptions that had been issued to her by the High Command. For that is who was calling her – she had set the computer to give a specific auditory tone when such a signal came.

The screen which initially showed the ship crest of _Enterprise_, was abruptly filled with the flowing top down script of written Vulcan. It happened very fast, but it was enough for her to discern that it was in fact the Ministry of Security calling.

The screen was then abruptly filled with the grave stoic face of an elder Vulcan woman. T'Pol recognized her as one of the Security Minister's direct adjutants, T'Meena.

"Sub-Commander."

"Yes?"

"Did I wake you?" Clearly indicating T'Pol's state of dress; a green _sai-vel_, simple pants and long sleeved shirt – the human term was 'pajamas'.

"It's all right. Is something wrong?"

"We've located Menos." T'Pol had to rigorously push down her flaring anger at hearing the name.

"Where?" she asked. Her stoicism was even more pronounced now, and T'Meena raised an eyebrow at it.

"Less than two days from your present location."

"Are you certain it's him?" T'Pol had been fooled before by Menos, not to mention the entire Ministry of Security. It was entirely plausible he had left another false trail for the Ministry to chase after.

"Yes." T'Meena spoke with no doubt in her eyes.

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T'Pol tapped on the door chime of the Captain's ready room, just before Alpha shift was due to start. She would be remiss in her duties and in her promise to Captain Archer if she didn't do this.

"Come in."

She entered and saw the Captain was seated on the small couch and busy carefully eating his breakfast. The plate of various Earth foods which she recognized as scrambled eggs, a steaming sausage of meat, and toasted bread rested on the flat area of the couch that was seemingly designed for such a purpose. The installation of the UC had seemingly made the Protein resenquencers near obsolete; the crew only used them for drinks now.

_Enterprise_'s Chef was now working with 'technically' real and fresh ingredients now; and was a daily visitor to Engineering to have those ingredients 'replicated' – a term one of younger Engineers had come up with.

"Good morning," Captain Archer smiled at her, after swallowing some eggs and wiping his mouth with a serviette.

"Captain." She greeted, striving for pushing down her raging emotions.

"Toast?" he offered gestured to the remaining slice on his plate.

"No, thank you," she declined, she had barely touched her Plomeek broth in the mess hall. Her appetite was one of first victims of her recent…troubles.

"What can I do for you?" The Captain returned to his meal.

"Admiral Forrest will be calling you this afternoon, sir."

"Oh, will he? And how would you know that?" The Captain's mild question was accompanied by a slight narrowing of his eyes.

"I was contacted by the Vulcan High Command last night. They've requested my services regarding a matter of security."

"And they've already asked Admiral Forrest?"

"He should be contacting you this afternoon."

"Matter of security?" Captain Archer sat back into his couch, clearly wanting elaboration.

"The Admiral will inform you that _Enterprise_ will be asked to alter course to the Pernaia system, where I will need a shuttlepod and a pilot for three to five days."

"You didn't answer my question. What kind of matter of security?" The Captain observed, a frown now marring his face. T'Pol now had to suppress her self-loathing for having to obey High Command classification procedures first and her Captain second…Menos was not a subject that they liked to broadcast to anyone, let alone an ally like Earth, or even to the general Vulcan populace.

"A Vulcan ship will rendezvous with the shuttlepod when my mission is completed."

"They're sending you to get somebody. Somebody you'll be handing over to the Vulcans. Why you?" Captain Archer deduced his eyes now mere slits.

"Admiral Forrest will be contacting you this afternoon." T'Pol repeated, now having to push away misery at what this would do for the trust already established between her and her Captain.

"Thanks for being so enlightening. Dismissed." Captain Archer saw that he would get nothing further from her, turned away from her coldly and returned to finish his meal. T'Pol turned and exited the Ready Room, 'wishing' she could bury her fists into the door to vent her frustration.

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The Situation Room on _Enterprise_, was not really a room per se, so much as it was an extension of the aft Bridge area. Two meters by three, it was dominated by a large console in the centre with a large display screen which would be used to display any data, graphics and pertinent images to the command crew during a briefing. Currently it showed a top down graphic of the system where Methos was believed to be in.

T'Pol found the open plan room a rather efficient design concept – Vulcan ships had separate Briefing Rooms to be used by specific department heads, and could be sealed off for confidential meetings if needed. _Enterprise_ didn't cater for that, and she had seen the benefits this 'openness' had for the crew. '_Espirit' des Corps'_ Commander Tucker had called it when she had asked.

"Did you find the coordinates?" Captain Archer asked whilst pacing around the assembled command staff clustered by the display table.

"Pernaia Prime. Yes, sir. " Ensign Mayweather confirmed.

"Set a course. When we arrive, you'll be piloting the shuttlepod."

"Where exactly will we be going?" The Ensign asked with a note of uncertainty.

"Somewhere in the Pernaia System, no doubt," the Captain explained dryly, coming to a stop at the head of the display table. "As far as the exact location, Admiral Forrest doesn't even know that. It seems the Sub-Commander's on a highly classified mission."

"Is this Pernaia Prime inhabited?" Commander Tucker queried.

"The Vulcan database says it has a methane-based atmosphere," Hoshi reported, meaning in all likelihood that it didn't have native species or inhabitants – or at least carbon based life.

"So, she's going to another planet in the system. Are we supposed to play some kind of guessing game?" Tucker drawled, his Terran Floridan accent deepening significantly. T'Pol noted it only happened when he was being sarcastic or angry.

"No, we're supposed to wait at Pernaia Prime for T'Pol and Travis to finish their mission," Captain Archer explained.

"And do what in the meantime?"

"I could use a few days to recalibrate the torpedo launchers." Lieutenant Reed declared.

"I could polish all the handles and rails in Engineering," Commander Tucker said jocularly, which got him a pointed look of disapproval from the Captain. He looked abashed and relented, "I guess I could study up on my Hyperspace theory, purge the impulse reactors while I'm at it."

"It's only for a few days. We've got plenty to keep ourselves busy. Is there anything specific you and Travis are going to need?" The Captain addressed the question to T'Pol.

T'Pol wrestled with herself, but again her logic triumphed. "Cold-weather gear, restraints and phase pistols."

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Her logic though, when presented with the problem of how to mend the hostility of the Captain, caused a conflict with her previous conclusion to keep the apprehension of Menos classified. It was logical to keep the matter confidential, yet it was also logical to break that confidentiality. In the end…what mattered more? – keeping Menos a secret or her relationship with her Captain. Perhaps…both could assuaged with a limited disclosure…Ensign Mayweather would need logically need to know as well, and he would report to the Captain. But she knew that would seal the rift permanently.

So she found a middle path, and that was what put her outside the Captain's quarters during late evening. She could hear a repetitive smacking sound echoing through the door. She pushed the door chime button.

"Come in."

The hollow smacking sound turned out to be the large yellow water polo ball that the Captain was throwing against the bulkhead opposite his bed…it would bounce off and thump near perfectly back into his hands every time. She entered the room and allowed the door to swish closed behind her. The Captain's desk monitor was showing a recording of a water polo game – it was a sport that could only evolve on a world that was two thirds water. On Vulcan, water was seen as too precious in ancient times and even today to be wasted by filling a fifteen hundred cubic meter volume of it in a pool to use for recreation.

On the other hand T'Pol could clearly see the athleticism, stamina and skill the sport required and fostered in its adherents. Captain Archer's physique was testament to it.

"If the Vulcan High Command doesn't approve of the water polo match I'm watching I'd be happy to find another," he commented sarcastically from his position on the bed.

"Your orders to bring me to Pernaia came from Starfleet, not the High Command," T'Pol pointed out, though she knew it was semantics, and that Starfleet would have asked for something in return for it.

The Captain gave her measuring stare before returning his gaze to the polo match. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a personal matter I'd like to discuss." She saw that the Captain's attention was kept by the monitor, and decided to show her seriousness by stepping in front of it, blocking the Captain's view. He sighed and gave her an irritated stare, before relenting, pausing the playback by tapping a button near his bed. With his full attention now, she began explaining. "Before I joined the Science Directorate I was assigned to the Ministry of Security. I was trained in reconnaissance, infiltration and retrieval."

The Captain raised both eyebrows in surprise and briefly directed his gaze to his pet quadruped. "Move over, Porthos." The rather well trained dog abruptly got off the couch and settled on its designated pillow. "Let the lady sit down. Sounds like this is going to be good. Come on, sit down." T'Pol acquiesced and gingerly took a seat. "How long ago are we talking about?"

"I completed my training seventeen Earth years ago," she answered.

"Go ahead."

"Are you familiar with a planet called Agaron?"

"They're close allies with the Vulcans, right?"

"Not always. Agaron was a very corrupt world. When their leaders were first trying to forge an alliance with Vulcan they asked for our assistance. Hundreds of us were surgically altered and sent to infiltrate the most criminal factions of Agaron society. Eventually, we were instrumental in the overthrow of those factions. After the alliance was formalised, the Vulcan agents were recalled. However, seven of the criminals on our target list managed to escape the arrest raids."

"And then?"

"The Ministry of Security sent me as a leader to a team of newly-trained operatives to retrieve them. We were only able to apprehend five of the seven fugitives."

"So tomorrow you get to pick up number six and seven."

"There will only be one fugitive to apprehend," T'Pol said, bowing her head to hide the slight twitch of her face that broke through her emotional control. When she felt somewhat master of herself again she raised her head and explained. "The sixth fugitive…there was…doubt over his guilt. Despite this, our orders were clear. Their names were Jossen and Menos. Jossen was young, an orphan, and grew up under Menos' tutelage."

T'Pol had to take a deep breath to fortify her control again. "I caught up with them only once before, on Risa. They thought they were invulnerable. I got very close. Twenty metres, maybe ten. Jossen grew tired and tripped, desperate and on the ground, to my eyes he reached for a weapon…I fired first."

The Captain frowned and queried very accurately. "Didn't your weapon have a stun setting?"

"It did," T'Pol confirmed. "But Agaronian physiology was different, less resilient, and Jossen had a congenital neuro-disorder. He died from the stun."

"You felt guilt over possibly taking an innocent life then? Is this what I'm seeing now?"

"I thought I had put it behind me, suppressed the emotion…it seems that is not the case."

"So this Menos escaped, and now you're finally going to apprehend him? Why can't someone else do it? Why you?"

"The Ministry considers it a matter of honour."

"How very Vulcan. So, why have you decided to tell me all this?"

"I'd like you to come with me," T'Pol confessed.

"What?"

"The man I'm being sent to apprehend is extremely dangerous. It would be wise for me to have assistance and I need to be with someone I can trust."

The Captain looked at her seriously, and she saw the support and understanding in his eyes. "Very well. Consider it done."

"Thank you, Captain." T'Pol felt the unspoken rift vanish.

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**Shuttlepod One – Pernia System**

Under Mayweather's guidance the small shuttle cruised at one quarter impulse to the moon orbiting the fifth planet. They had a few hours to acquaint themselves with the particulars of the criminal they were going to apprehend. T'Pol had brought a data wafer which she slotted into one of the rear computer terminals. A few button taps later and the face of an older humanoid alien appeared on the screen.

Menos had yellow hair and a prominent ridge that bisected his forehead - odd purple eyes that had a cunning intelligence behind them glanced off into the distance, clearly he hadn't been aware of being photographed.

"Menos was the head of a large smuggling syndicate," T'Pol explained. "He was very proficient at his craft, amassed a large fortune."

"Smuggling what?" Jon asked curiously.

"Synthetic biotoxins used to manufacture transgenic weapons. I spent three months trying to find him. He used his wealth wisely. Whenever I'd get close, I'd find he'd left a day or two before."

"Until Risa," Jon nodded in understanding.

"Yes, he thought he was invulnerable there, that no one would think to look for him on such a peaceful place."

Jon could see her eyes were stormy as she stared at the scrolling surveillance photos and she seemed lost in a reverie.

"T'Pol?"

"I never found him again. No one did. Not until now."

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**Pernia V's Moon**

The large moon was barely inhabitable. With seasonal storms and cold weather that Eskimos would balk at braving. It's sole purpose, and one that made it attractive to all a manner of people, despite the freezing conditions, was its position as a central trading hub of sorts. Pernia was uniquely situated amongst the trade lanes that made it an ideal waystation.

Of course, no such place was complete without a tavern or bar for people to drown their sorrows at business deals gone sour, or merely having a bit of a respite from an exhaustive cargo run.

As Jon entered the tavern he was amazed at the virtual exobiologist catalogue of various humanoid aliens cluttered in the place. Some small, some huge, some hairy, some not, a rainbow of various colours of skin – he doubted he could name less than a third of the species on display.

He adjusted his thick Starfleet issue cold-weather jacket, and glanced to T'Pol, who was staring into her Scanner. The rounded device was standard issue in the Vulcan fleet, and was obviously considerably more advanced and 'pretty' in design than the Starfleet version. It beeped something at her and the display flashed Vulcan writing.

"He's here," she declared, having finished her scan for an Agaron lifesign and DNA. It also helped that Menos, as a criminal, had had his unique DNA catalogued and was on record with the Vulcan Security Ministry.

"Where?" Jon scanned the tables for the face he had memorized, it was hard with all the commotion and life of the place.

"Within thirty meters."

Jon grumbled inwardly, Vulcan tech clearly wasn't everything it was cracked up to be. There was a lot of life within those thirty meters. "If he sees T'Pol, he may try to get back to his ship." Jon told Travis, who nodded and hung back by the door, guarding the entrance. Jon took a left, whilst T'Pol headed right, both slowly milling through the crowd and scanning faces.

Barely twenty seconds of trying to make heads or tails out of a sea of alien faces passed when there was a commotion near T'Pol's location. Jon threaded his way through, his phase pistol kept low and out of sight. When he reached his XO, she was looking around almost frantically.

"He saw me."

"Which way?"

"I'm not certain."

Jon snapped into action, spotting an empty table whose occupant had gone to the bar for another round, he used the chair to leap up onto the table and whistled to Travis, still standing at the entrance, giving a hand signal. He heard the charging whine of an energy weapon and managed to duck the yellow plasma bolt that was shot from one end of the long bar table. Jon spotted a figure huddled there and rapidly retreating.

Jon jumped down to pursue only to be confronted by a hulking brute of an alien, who was clearly irritated about using his table, and snarled in his unrecognizable language.

"Couldn't agree more," Jon frowned and with his pistol in view, the alien visibly backed off allowing Jon to move.

By the time he got anywhere near Menos, Travis and T'Pol was already there and between them had easily disarmed and pinned the criminal to the floor.

"Don't move," snarled Travis, as Menos tried to squirm out of the strong Helmsman's grip.

T'Pol handed Jon the restraints whilst she kept her phase pistol trained on the criminal. He threaded the thick tritanium restraints around Menos' wrists and with a snap the powerful magnetic field activated keeping the wrists together. Travis hauled Menos to his feet. The alien criminal looked slightly worse for wear than his photo had suggested. _Being constantly on the run and hunted can't help_.

"You have no jurisdiction here," snarled Menos.

T'Pol simply got right into the alien's face, her eyes blazing phase bolts at him. "Follow me, and we'll see about that, Menos."

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The Dockmaster's office was a grubby, cluttered affair. The Dockmaster himself was a roughly green skinned bulky humanoid with nothing resembling hair on his head, merely a red coloured pattern. It took a few tries to settle the Universal Translators on a language the alien knew well enough.

He (if that was the right pronoun) stared at the Vulcan Padd, (again it was another piece of Vulcan hardware T'Pol had brought with her) that contained the highly encrypted and tamperproof Warrant of Arrest, issued by the Vulcan Ministry – that T'Pol set to translate into Rigellian characters. Finally, he handed it back.

"Your warrant is valid, but you won't be able to take him. Not for at least four hours. We've begun thermalizing the landing deck."

"We just need to get him to our ship," T'Pol intoned.

"There's a half centimetre of xylathoric acid on that deck. I wouldn't recommend it. Not if you value those pretty feet of yours."

"Do you have somewhere we can put him until we leave?" Jon sighed in frustration.

"Does this look like a prison to you?" the Dockmaster asked incredulously.

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**Enterprise – In orbit of Pernia Prime**

Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker sat at the head of the table in the Captain's Mess, watching the latest Water polo game from the University league – fresh off the latest subspace data stream from Earth. The door chime sounded.

"Come in."

Dr Phlox and Lieutenant Reed entered.

"Gentlemen, come in. Glad you could join me."

"Water polo?" Reed asked with a grin, staring at the monitor in corner of the room.

"Very exciting sport. You should learn more about it." Trip tapped the controls mounted on the table, and the playback shut down. "Please, sit down. I had Chef prepare a special lunch." And right on time a mess steward entered, carefully carrying the lunches in question. Phlox and Reed sat down hurriedly as Trip introduced each dish with relish. "Bangers and mash for you Lieutenant and, Denobulan sausage for the Doctor."

"Very nice." The Doctor grinned one his huge smiles.

"Are you sure the Captain wouldn't have a problem with you using his dining room?" Reed asked pointedly.

"Acting Captain, Captain's Mess. I don't see a problem. Thank you, Crewman." The Steward nodded and disappeared through the doors. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," Phlox nodded and everyone began to tuck into their meals. Over the first bite, the Doctor suddenly said with an air of realization. "Oh, I detected a lymphatic virus on board this morning. Most likely it sneaked in with one of the deuterium canisters. We should probably inoculate the crew."

"Why didn't the bio-scanners detect it?" Trip asked with irritation.

"Well, it's a very reliable device, but it's not perfect. The inoculation does have some side effects."

"What kind of side effects?" Trip asked wearily.

"Headache, nausea, diarrhoea." Phlox listed casually. "But they would subside in a day or two. Do I have your permission?"

"I'd hate to be responsible for giving the crew the runs." Trip winced as he thought of the ruckus it would cause if his Engineering staff came down with those symptoms, and couldn't report for duty. "Maybe you should wait till the Captain gets back."

"I'm afraid the virus will have spread by then. I really need an answer today," the Doctor said gravely.

"Why don't I get back to you later, Doc?"

"Not _too much_ later."

"While we're on the subject of approvals," Reed spoke after swallowing a nice spoonful of mash, "I promised Captain Archer that I'd recalibrate the torpedo launchers. I'll need to divert computer access from Main Engineering."

"That would mean we'd have to power down the warp core," Trip said in exasperation.

"It'll only be for a day. We're not exactly going anywhere," Reed pointed out.

"We're also not at war. I'm just not comfortable taking the engines offline right now."

"Is that the Chief Engineer talking, or the Acting Captain?"

"Let me get back to you." The com beeped for his attention, he tapped in the button exasperation. "Tucker."

"_We were just hailed by the Vulcan ship _Nyran_, sir. It's approaching the system at high warp. They're asking to speak with Captain Archer,"_ Hoshi's voice filtered through the com.

"Tell them the Captain's indisposed at the moment. He'll get back to them in a little while."

"Yes, sir."

When the com beeped off, he saw the questioning looks from his two fellows. "The Captain said not to tell the Vulcans he went with T'Pol. He was very emphatic about that."

"It's going to be difficult to convince them he's indisposed for the next two days," Phlox said reasonably.

The com beeped for attention again, before Trip could even get back to his pasta. "Go ahead."

"_Captain Tavek says he has a message from Admiral Forrest."_ Hoshi reported. _"He seems very anxious to speak with Captain Archer. What shall I tell him?"_

"I'll get back to you." Trip closed the channel again and stared at his pasta, lamenting its loss, for he wouldn't be able to finish it…not if he had to come up with a way to convince this Captain Tavek that Jon was still on Enterprise…

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**Pernia V's Moon**

Menos was securely fastened to the table with his restraints; allowing Jon and the others to have a seat at the same table, with their phase pistols holstered, though he kept his right hand close to it all times as he alertly scanned the tavern and its noisy occupants.

"Any one of these people could be working with him."

"I doubt that, Captain," T'Pol disagreed. "All his assets were repossessed by the Agaron government – they couldn't get all of it, but it was enough. He only has the means to continue his criminal pursuits by himself now."

"'He' is right here, Vulcan," sneered Menos, who then surveyed Jon and Travis briefly. "Humans?" Menos snorted with an ugly look on his face. "Just yet another race you Vulcan's puppeteer."

"The Vulcan's do not control us, they are our allies – yes, they helped us and advised us, perhaps even interfered, but never have they made our choices for us," Jon said rather strongly, surprising himself with their vehemence…and he wondered if he would've said the same eighteen months ago before Enterprise had left Spacedock – but if there was one thing his time in deep space had taught him thus far was to leave hubris and pride out of the airlock and it had added a bit of perspective.

"Lucky for you," Menos sneered. "Do they put dozens of secret police on your planet? Hmmm?"

"The Agaron government asked for us to be there," T'Pol countered, "your criminal factions had too much power over the judiciary and the local police forces on the ground."

"Bunch of bastards," Menos muttered. "Do you know how many politicians, who are just as corrupt but cloak themselves in fairness, still sit in the Agaron government today?" He asked this question to Jon. "Some are even worse than I am; they wanted their competition out of the way and saw the Vulcans as a means to do that. 'Officially' allying Agaron with Vulcan allowed massive amounts of exports and imports to flow, and the politicians didn't want to share that pie with the syndicates – so they got the Vulcans to infiltrate and root us out."

"Is there a point to this?" Jon sighed, shaking his head. "Because I tell you now that your story of woe is not going to inspire me in any way to suddenly let you go."

"Do I look like I'm living a life of lucrative smuggling?" Menos retorted unabated, gesturing to his rather dishevelled appearance. "Do you know how I've survived the last twenty years? How I've fed my family while on the run? I haul spent warp injector casings. Not a very popular occupation, but a necessary one. A doctor on Andoria says that my hemolytic cell count is over three thousand. You don't find too many old men hauling spent injector casings. In my left front pocket, if you don't mind."

Travis wearily moved to reach into said pocket, but T'Pol stopped him with a firm hand. "I wouldn't. It may be a weapon."

"It's a hologram of my family. It won't hurt you."

Jon debated with himself and subtly drew his pistol and levelled it at the smuggler under the table before nodding to Travis to pull out the holo. It was a small cylinder shaped device that Travis easily switched on and a flat holograph screen of a few inches sprang out of it. It showed a rather pretty Agaronian woman and two smaller children who were smiling and waving at the camera.

"The injector casings are going to take me away from them soon enough. I don't want to die in an Agaron prison," Menos mumbled glumly.

"The information that I was given says that you buy high grade biotoxins and sell them to anyone who will meet your price," T'Pol retorted flatly, with a slight tinge of accusation.

"If all of the Ministry's reports about me were true I could easily shape-shift and slip out of these restraints, or sprout wings and fly to my ship," he said sardonically.

"Hey! Enough! You've been convicted already, and no amount of good honest behaviour now is going to wash away your past crimes," Jon said firmly. "So we're going to sit here, quietly, enjoy our drinks until the landing deck is clear. Or would you prefer we keep you permanently stunned…"

Menos sneered weakly at them and sat back in his seat after allowing Travis to return the holo device.

It was going to be a long night…

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_**Enterprise**_** Bridge – In orbit of Pernaia Prime.**

Trip felt deeply uncomfortable as he sat on the Captain's Chair, feeling like a fraud, because that was what he was at the moment. He had requisitioned a Starfleet jumpsuit with the gold shoulder piping from the Quartermaster, and was adding a fourth pip to the rank bar to indicate his rather unauthorized elevation of rank from Commander to Captain. He glanced nervously at Hoshi. She was watching him with twinkly eyes of amusement from her station ready to initialize communications with the incoming Vulcan ship.

"You're sure?" he asked flatly.

"There's no record of them ever having spoken, but I can't be certain." She shrugged, not entirely being reassuring to her Acting Captain.

"Has he ever been to Earth?"

"If he has, the Vulcan database doesn't mention it."

"I hope they haven't put Starfleet yearbook photos into that database. Let's get this over with." He nodded to Hoshi and he quickly put on his 'Captain Archer's Hat', conveying a calm command presence. The forward viewscreen abruptly changed from the view of the planet to show the upper half of a stern looking Vulcan, clearly reaching his senior years. The Bridge of the Vulcan cruiser around him was typical – highly efficient, with no seating provided except for the Captain and a general 'squeaky clean' high tech feel. "Captain Tavek, is there something I can do for you?" Trip said confidently.

"Captain Archer?" Tavek asked flatly.

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"You seem very young for a Starfleet Captain." Tavek observed.

"Healthy living. You have a message from Admiral Forrest?"

"I'm not certain what this means but the Admiral asked me to inform you that…" Tavek looked to a padd briefly to confirm the seemingly strange message. "Cal beat Stanford, seven to three."

"I'll be sure to tell him," mumbled Trip to himself, but he kicked himself a moment later when the sensitive audio gains picked up his voice.

"Tell who?"

"I'm afraid it's confidential. Thank you for relaying the message. Archer out." Trip said firmly, the viewscreen returned to the default forward view and he breathed a sigh of relief, slumping in the chair.

Disaster averted.

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**Pernia V's moon**

It was a long wait. Jon honestly didn't know how the police could babysit a criminal for hours on end, and keep alert to prevent the suspect from trying anything to escape. But wait they did. They couldn't even discuss ship business or other similar subjects in front of Menos to pass the time – because there's no telling who he could sell the information to down the line.

Travis was alternately swirling his drink and occasionally gave Menos a beady eye. He needn't have bothered – T'Pol had been fixing her attention on the criminal rigidly for the past five hours, who was squirming under that unfathomable stare. Jon for his own part was doing the same, but kept a more overall eye on the tavern – just in case Menos did indeed have a confederate. He didn't doubt the competence of Vulcan's Security Ministry, but they couldn't know a hundred percent for sure that Menos didn't have help on this moon.

Finally, the Dockmaster bustled into the tavern and after getting the rowdy patronage to quiet down somewhat, announced that the landing deck was clear of acid. What followed was a brief surge of people trying to leave and getting stuck in the door, which they waited out since it was such a situation which Menos could use to give them the slip.

When they finally emerged from the Tavern into the freezing weather again, T'Pol spoke up.

"Captain, I wish to conduct a search of Menos' ship. If there are biotoxins aboard it would be unwise to leave it here…this moon is not an entirely reputable place."

Under encouragement from Travis, Menos led them to a green hulled warp vessel thirty meters in length. It was in rather good condition for the supposedly hard times the smuggler had fallen under. In the cargo hold they did indeed find large plasteel crates filled with spent warp injector casings.

T'Pol clearly wasn't buying it and had her scanner out immediately, only to surprisingly meet with the same results. Jon had a nagging suspicion though and pulled out his own scanner to begin a sweep. Trip had recently done an overhaul of the hand scanners in the _Enterprise_ inventory to include some sensor technology from the Odyssey tech base, and not only that but Jon suspected that Menos had devised countermeasures against Vulcan based scanning techniques – he had to be so successful at eluding capture for a reason.

"Over here," Jon gestured to his XO to follow him after the scanner beeped. T'Pol arched an eyebrow and accompanied him over to one of the bare walls of the cargo compartment. He felt carefully along the wall and suddenly his fingers seemed to melt into it. He pulled his hand back out and glanced at the scanner again.

"Artificially manipulated field of photons…it's like the Xyrillian holo chamber," Jon mused, wondering where Menos could've gotten his hands on such technology.

"My scanner reads it as nothing but alloy plating," T'Pol turned to Menos who looked somewhat smugly at her.

"You Vulcans," he shook his head, "think your technology is infallible, that couldn't be further from the truth. It took one of my recruited scientists two years of research to make a device that fools the Vulcan hand scanner into detecting what I want it to detect."

"How do we shut it off?" Jon asked pointedly.

"Go to the cockpit, there's an auxiliary maintenance panel where a person's legs would be, pull it away and you'll see a small control board," Menos explained grudgingly.

"Travis…"

"Aye sir," nodded the Helmsman and headed to the fore of the ship, a few minutes later there was a sizzling sound and with an electric snap the illusion vanished to reveal an alcove filled with transparent circular containers that held a fluid that glowed with an eerie green.

T'Pol held her scanner near it, and simply said, "biotoxins."

"Is it safe to move?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get this stuff out of here."

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**Main Gymnasium, Starfleet Academy, Earth**

Teal'C stood in front of his first assembled class of Starfleet cadets. They were first years and consequently 'wet behind the ears rookies' as his old friend Jack O'Neill would say. Most of them were almost fresh out of High School, nineteen or even eighteen years old...Teal'C suspected one or two of them were even younger and had somehow finagled their way into Starfleet Academy.

That did not matter at all to him. If they were here, they were volunteers, and that meant they knew what they were getting into. There were a total of twenty four first years – ten of them female – he mentally amended some of his goals with them in mind. The cadets were also staring at him with a slight nervousness...no doubt his size intimidated them somewhat, and in some of the female cadets he even saw the light of admiration...they would lose that quickly enough.

"Greetings, I am Captain Tariq Freeman," Teal'c spoke to the assembled class, standing like a statue of ready poise in Starfleet issue exercise gear of blue shorts and grey sleeveless shirt. His chosen Terran name was something his cover demanded and the old SGC standby of 'Murray' was hardly logical anymore. "This is the beginning of a new compulsory training for all cadets from first to final year. On your timetables this class is called 'Martial Arts Appreciation', the name is but a pale shadow of what you will truly learn from me."

Teal'c walked over to an area a few feet away that he had set up, it had numerous 'human dummies' mounted on stands. Next to that were two long tables covered in cloth. He pulled one off to reveal numerous examples of the preferred weapon of a Klingon in a melee combat. He picked one up and held it up to the class for view.

"This is the Klingon Bat'leth – a curved bilateral sword," Teal'c introduced and without warning delivered a decapitating attack with it on one of the dummies and also an eviscerating upward strike that neatly cleaved it in two pieces that fell to the floor. He put the Bat'leth down and picked up the next weapon. "The Klingon Mek'leth – two pronged dagger." He attacked another dummy with slashes and eviscerating strikes. He then picked up a Klingon style disruptor - a replicated example of one found in _Enterprise_' recent Intelligence and technology coup - and fired it at another dummy, which promptly vaporized.

"To both Earth and Vulcan's current knowledge, Klingons are the most immediate threat to any Starfleet vessel's security. There are others, which you will learn about in Interstellar Relations class, but space is infinite, and there is no telling what you could be called upon to do, to defend yourself, shipmates and your ship."

"It is highly probable that you will be assigned when you graduate to a new NX class, and other deep space assignments. You will be the first to see many wondrous new events, places and people, but on the reverse, you will also be the first to see nightmares that threaten the survival not only of your ship, but of Earth itself."

"I am here to teach you the basis of defending yourself in armed and unarmed combat. By the time you leave this Academy you will be able to defend yourself against any race known to Starfleet, even with your bare hands if the situation calls for it."

There was a few nervous and sceptical coughs, and a cadet raised her hand.

"Yes, Cadet...?"

"Andrews, Sir. Are you telling me we could even take a Vulcan down after our training?"

"Indeed," Teal'c said seriously. "You are of course referring to the physiological strength and speed advantage a Vulcan has over a Human, and to the Klingon's brute strength and size advantage."

"Yes, sir," nodded Cadet Andrews nervously. Teal'c noted she had a distinctively small build, she was the smallest of the female cadets, at just above one point six meters.

"My answer is that you must remember that all species evolved to adapt to their environments, and remember that Vulcans and Klingons must pay a price for that advantage. Vulcans have what is known as 'fast twitch' muscles – they contract with extreme strength and speed, their ancestors were 'impulse hunters', the disadvantage of this is that they have no staying power, their natural stamina in considerably lower than a Human's. They are also individualists and solitary, they have no group 'instincts' as it is."

"Klingons have extreme strength, developed because of their high gravity homeworld, they overpower their targets and charge headlong into battle, again they lack stamina because of this and rarely attack cooperatively."

"I will train you to make the most of Humanity's natural advantages – stamina, discipline and unit tactics. You will turn your opponents advantages into disadvantages. When you fight a Klingon you will deflect his attacks like wind skipping off him, whilst getting your own hits in...and when he is exhausted, you finish him off by striking a vulnerable spot."

"Moving on to armed combat I will teach you to fight weaponless against an armed opponent and come out the victor. I will also be teaching you in the philosophy of the martial arts, and you will see that it will also readily apply to starship battles. Finally, when you have mastered and absorbed all this, you will be issued a with a new melee style weapon that I have recommended to Starfleet for adoption. Those of you with an appreciation of classic movies will surely recognize it, but I do not want to spoil the surprise."

"We will begin today with our first lesson, divide into pairs, it doesn't matter if you are paired with the opposite gender, and then we will learn how to move in unarmed battle..."

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**UES Enterprise, Terran System Designation **_**Theta Ursae Majoris**_**, High Orbit of Theta IV**

"I need to spend more time in the gym." That was Hoshi's fervent declaration as she wearily pulled herself out of the shuttlepod and up the steep ladder that led onto the Lauch Bay mezzanine deck. Jon pulled himself out of the shuttlepod behind her and regarded his Com Officer with a wry expression.

"If I knew there were going to be so many hills I would have picked a different city to explore," Jon commented and they paused on the mezzanine for the last member of their party to climb the ladder.

"It was worth every step, sir." Malcolm declared fervently. "The architecture alone..." The Tactical Officer didn't need to elaborate.

"I could have spent all day in that temple," Hoshi agreed, mirroring Malcolm's gleam of satisfaction.

The three of them entered the Decon Bay and began to peel off the cosmetic adornments that had allowed them to blend in with the humanoid natives of Theta IV. It was essentially forehead extentions that changed the cranial structure and volume of the Thetans. Luckily they didn't need any skin coloration and other more extensive procedures to blend in. They had lucked out in that. Jon personally drew the line at having to go under the cosmetic 'laser' to go on a pre-FTL culture visit. As yet, Enterprise had not encoutered a pre-Warp species that required that...for which he was infinitely thankful.

"With your permission, Captain, I'd like to write the report to Starfleet. It was my first visit to a pre-warp culture. Seems only fitting," Malcolm requested as dumped the used make-up in a disposal bin.

"I don't suppose it has anything to do with the tactical situation down there," Hoshi grinned at him knowingly.

"Am I that obvious?" Malcolm ruefully asked.

"I can't think of a better man for the job," Jon nodded at his Tactical officer.

"Welcome home," came the cheerful voice of Doctor Phlox from the observation window.

"Any unexpected guests?" Jon queried with a hopeful air. He really just wanted to retire to his quarters and sleep a whole day away, not spend it in Decon.

"Not a single parasite, spore or virus. I take it your expedition was productive?"

"Very," Jon confirmed.

"You're done here," Phlox nodded, giving his official permission to re-enter the ship by unlocking the Decon chamber.

From there they proceeded into the neighboring Locker Room, which housed the majority of the copper colored Starfleet issue EVA suits, helmets and where they could change back into their Starfleet uniform jumpsuits. The clothes they had worn had been down on Theta IV had been rather painstakingly researched and replicated to match the local styles, even down to matching the prevalent weave style being used by the Thetans and would remain in the Quatermaster's stores for possible future use.

"You know, as interesting as that was, it's always good to get home," Jon remarked, as he removed his jacket.

"The speaker at the political rally, what was his name? Chancellor Kultrey?" Malcom asked, the Thetan planet still strong on his mind.

"Kultarey," Hoshi corrected automatically.

"You could write a book about him alone." Malcolm began frown as his hands entered the leather jacket's pockets. "His speech reminded me of Winston Churchill before the Second World War." Jon noted his hands began to flutter in the pockets and abruptly an alarmed expression broke upon his face.

"Something wrong? Malcolm?"

"My communicator."

"What about it?"

"It's gone."

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**Shuttlepod Bay**

Jon carefully scanned the exterior floor just outside the Shuttlepod One, it was highly likely that Malcolm had dropped the communicator as he climbed out of the pod, since it was rather awkward climbing out of the things. But there was nothing but shiny deck floor around the pod...no communicator.

"It's not in decon. Any luck?" Malcolm asked as he entered the bay.

"None yet." Jon sighed.

"What about the launch bay crew? Could they have found it while they were securing the pod?"

"I've already spoken to them," Jon shook his head in frustration.

"I did everything but tear up the floor plating over here," Hoshi peaked out of the pod before nimbly jumping out of it.

"When was the last time you remember having it?" Jon equired intently of his Tactical Officer.

"I contacted T'Pol to let her know we'd entered the city."

"After that. Did you have any reason to take it out of your pocket?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" Jon insisted.

"I'd remember. Either I dropped it or someone picked my pocket." Malcolm spoke grimly.

"We covered a lot of ground. It could be anywhere." Jon frowned at the problem.

"I think I can narrow down the search, Captain. An inverse carrier wave should amplify its power signature. With any luck, I'll be able to isolate it."

"Get on it, in the meantime I think I'm going to have Trip install embedded trackers in all our away team gear, stop this from happening in the future."

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**Enterprise Bridge**

"I'm getting something," announced Ensign Sato from her Com Station, staring intently at a sensor feed she had channeled to it, while at the same time positively flooding local subspace around Theta IV with the strongest carrier wave she could generate with the subspace com arrray. "I've got it down to one point five square kilometers."

"Can you do a litte better?" Jon asked mildly.

"I'll try," nodded the Ensign and began trying to tweak more resolution from the sensors.

Trip was at the Bridge Engineering station to monitor the power flow to the subspace antenna, not to mention all the computer access that was beign diverted to help with this 'little' crisis. Jon also noticed an unusual eagerness had entered his Chief Engineer ever since they had entered orbit of Theta IV; his friend was clearly chomping at the bit to get assigned to an away team, as he spent as much time as he could get away with on the Bridge, his ear constantly on the data and conversations of the away teams that had thus far been sent down. However, there was now a frission of concern in his friend's voice as he asked, "Isn't there a war brewing down there?"

"We saw a lot of propaganda, but from what we could tell nobody started fighting yet."

"It's crucial we retrieve the technology." T'Pol stated from her station with a hint of emphasis in her tone. "We can't risk contaminating a pre-warp culture."

"I've isolated the signal to within three city blocks." Hoshi announced next and a few button taps later displayed a top down visual sensor feed on the main viewer of the city blocks in question. "That's the best I can do from this high orbit, sir."

"We could go to a lower orbit," mused Jon, raising a speculative eyebrow in Trip's direction.

"We would be detected, unless..." T'Pol did the Vulcan version of raising an eyebrow and also looked at Trip.

"Well, there's no time like the present, I suppose," Trip shrugged, and turned to Lieutenant Reed at the Tactical Station, "so how about it, Lieutenant, d'you wanna turn us all invisible with the push of a button?"

Reed's expression of delight was all the answer they needed.

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_Enterprise_ was lazily coasting in it's standard high orbit of Theta IV, just like it had done for the past week, when all of a sudden her form seemed to suddenly distort...for a moment actually seeming to become bigger...before she abruptly normalized showing that had been an illusion, but now as her shield system abruptly switched function into a Cloak...the ship abruptly vanished from both visual, radio and subspace sensors as the shield system now actually phased the entire ship partially out of sync with the rest of the Universe.

Ensign Mayweather piloted the ship skillfully into a low orbit, almost skimming the outer atmosphere of Theta IV in fact. The reason for this was to give as much resolution as possible, not only to the sensors, but also for the targeting scanners of Enterprise' Transporter. They finally got a targeting lock on the missing communicator after a sustained scan had narrowed down its location in space down to a one centimeter radius. With that Trip simply beamed the missing Communicator directly onto the Transporter Pad.

_Enterprise_ returned to its high orbit and remained under Cloak for the remaining time of the two-week planetary survey. The missing Communicator incident caused him to recommend in his report to Starfleet that in the future, any Pre-Warp Culture Survey of a civilization in an Industrial Age or Higher should be done under with the ship under Cloak, that all away team gear should be fitted with subspace tracking tags and for that matter any personnel going down should have subcutaneous trackers installed as well. Technology wasn't the only thing that could cause 'Cultural Contamination'; if an away team member was knocked unconscious, kidnapped, arrested or God forbid, even killed, the natives would quickly learn that something wasn't right when they found the body. There was no guarantee that the other members of any away party would be in a position to prevent this.

Jon tapped his computer screen in his Ready Room and sent off his final report to Hoshi for compilation into the data bundle that would be transmitted back to Earth. He stood and stared out of the small viewport at the blurred shifting light of stars as his ship cruised at Warp Five.

His door chime interupted his thoughts of the near disaster that had been averted as he stared at the hypnotic and beautiful sight.

"Come in."

T'Pol entered bearing a data Padd, her face frozen in typical Vulcan poise."I scanned the region ahead. There's a blue giant cluster three light years from our current position."

"Any planets?"

"None that are inhabited."

"Sounds good, have Travis set a course," Jon took the Padd from her and scanned it briefly. "Have you finished your own report on Theta IV?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's your analysis of any contamination we may have caused to the Thetans?"

T'Pol didn't hesistate for an instant as she answered, "The Communicator was out of our possession for slightly less than a standard day. Doctor Phlox found Thetan skin cells on it and inside the casing, clearly indicating that it had been pried open and examined. There was not enough time for the Thetans to have examined the technology in any detail, but they may have come to some ideas as to its function and purpose."

"So at best we've simply given them the idea of a small handheld radio communcation device."

"Yes, but considering that two major factions of Thetans are close to open war, I am not ruling out that our presence may have been misconstrued as a mission of espionage."

"That would be of some concern, especially if it causes whatever Intelligence Agency they have to raise a red flag..." Jon trailed off in thought.

"There is a slightly lower than moderate chance of that, Captain, however, I calculate a four percent chance that this will cause the Thetan's to go to war with each other."

"Well, that's something at least, although in my opinion four percent is four percent too much...our 'espionage mission' could easily be the tiniest spark that ingites the fire of War that will rage over all of Theta IV, the situation was very volatile down there."

"Then perhaps we should make it a policy to determine a pre-warp culture's susceptibility to that."

"It would mean a lot more time spent in orbit before sending down away teams, but the lives that would be saved..."

T'Pol said nothing, but Jon read the approval in her bearing...how odd, he was getting better at that...

"Is that all, Captain?"

"Dismissed." He nodded and turned back to the viewport.

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_A/N: For those of you saying 'You can't beam through an active Cloak!' Wrong. In SG1 S10EP19 'Dominion' they beam onto Ba'al's flagship from the Odyssey while Cloaked, and since Enterprise makes use of the same Cloaking Technique... _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Mars, Sol System**

Sam felt the crunch of red soil and rock underneath the thick boots of the suit she wore, and reveled in the sheer feeling of awe, wonder and satisfaction as she gazed over the hazy red landscape. Technically, she was the first woman on Mars, at least from the perspective of the Extra-Universal Odyssey Six. Part of her was also enthralled at the technological wizardry what she was wearing.

It was what would be known as a CHS or Combat HardSuit. It was custom fitted for its wearer's body and fit like a glove for comfort and ease of movement. With the addition of its contoured Helmet it was vacuum-rated, and it's outward appearance could be easily adapted with digital camouflage patterns appropriate to whatever environment a MACO would find him or herself in (in this case, her suit was colored entirely in rippling patterns of white and matt red) and it's most impressive feature was the addition of Absorption systems which would soak up any energy or kinetic weapon fire like a sponge and leave the wearer unharmed – she wryly thanked the Goa'uld Anubis for showing the idea of that technology to the SGC, by using it in his Kull Warriors.

Also integrated into the CHS was a Sodan Personal Cloak; it shifted its user partially into another dimension slightly out of phase with the real world thereby rendering him or her invisible. The SGC had initially used it quite successfully to conduct reconnaissance on worlds conquered by the Ori, after refitting the technology to be useful for human physiology, but an unforeseen side-effect was that it let native 'creatures' from that dimension leak into the 'real' universe. The device usually emitted a type of radiation to repulse the creatures, but it was generally lethal to humans…now with the CHS also hardened against radiation, that shielded the wearer.

As icing on the cake, contoured through the suit like veins, especially around the arms and legs were micro-fusion powered graviton emitters that acted in the same principle as hydraulics. Once activated, it effectively enhanced her strength and running speed by quite a few orders of magnitude. She had attained a speed of sixty kilometers per hour with no more effort on her own part that a standard jog would demand, not to mention make jumps of over ten meters. Making the CHS the first ever powered armor that she had seen in both Universes.

There were also security features in place, since the CHS was so powerful. If anybody went rogue with the thing, a Command-level authorization could be sent to the suit itself and cause the rogue user into making a nice impression of a statue. It was also biometrically encoded so that any attempt to examine it by someone who didn't have the right technology or human DNA sequence for that matter, would cause an overload of its power systems and make a nice crater.

What actually amazed her though was that she had not even come up with the idea of the CHS. Admiral Landry and General Casey had both sat down in front of the Asgard Core and somehow come up with this little miracle of integration and technology. There was already an elite, high level clearance, MACO squad training with them.

Her mind turned to the landscape around her; she was standing at the very edge of a famous area, as one hundred and seventy odd years ago (at least in this Universe) the Viking 2 lander had touched down. Many rocks appeared perched in the area, as if wind removed much of the soil at their bases. A hard surface crust formed by solutions of minerals moving up through soil and evaporating at the surface.

This was the eastern perimeter of Utopia Planitia.

The subspace radio in her helmet chirped for attention.

"Carter here."

"_Captain Carter, we've finished,"_ came the excited voice of Commander Qin.

"Excellent, beam me back."

Her perception was distorted with the very familiar white haze of an Asgard style transporter. The moment transport was complete; she twisted and lifted off her helmet tucking it under her arm and walking the last few meters towards the end of the massive Shipyard 20.

It was over one point six kilometers in length, three hundred meters high by two hundred wide. She felt practically dwarfed walking in the vast empty space, and her footsteps echoed eerily off the distant walls.

Shipyard 20 was the last in a series of vast underground ship construction areas that was hollowed out of Utopia Planitia over a period of twenty five years under the direction of the old United Earth Intelligence Agency before it was renamed and absorbed into Starfleet Intelligence after it had been chartered. Utopia Yards had begun construction in 2090 when the UEIA made the prudent decision that with Earth now rebuilt and united under one banner that they couldn't afford just to rely on the Vulcans for protection against the great unknown, and Earth had to build the capacity to rapidly expand its Fleet at a moment's notice. So when the equipment used to rebuild Earth was returned to Vulcan, some were declared damaged and 'scrapped' and then sent under great secrecy to Mars.

Secrecy forced the construction to take place at a snail's pace, thankfully though a lot of Vulcan equipment was automated to a degree, and could continue with minimal oversight.

The need for the Utopia Yards had thus far never materialized. The Earth Shipyard was more than enough to meet the needs of Starfleet, whilst Jupiter Station satisfied the need of a civilian merchant fleet under the jurisdiction of the Earth Cargo Authority.

This made Utopia Planitia a perfect place to house the Stargate.

The iconic device was situated at the end of Shipyard 20, in a setup much like a mirror of the one in the SGC, except that here they were using its accompanying DHD to control the Stargate. The Gate was held upright and in its position with four evenly spaced Superconductor clamps that was connected to the Shipyard's power supply – should the DHD ever fail for some reason. A solid duranium ramp led up into the Gate's maw and on either side with perfect fields of fire on that maw was four Phase Cannons.

It was totally unnecessary, but Sam couldn't rule out that there wasn't something like the Stargate in this Galaxy that could connect to the new 'Utopia' Gate.

Surrounding the Utopia Stargate was all a manner of scientific equipment, desks littered with Padds, all of it directed to study its inner workings. At the moment three members of Sam's Section 31 Engineering team was busy around it, making sure that everything was perfect for the Gate's first activation attempt – frequency and seismic dampeners, power feeds, Iris controls and mechanisms, everything that made operating the Stargate a smooth process.

Feeling satisfied at their progress she walked off to where a nearby door that led to the adjoining labs and component production lines of Shipyard 20. Another long hallway greeted her here with marked doors on either side, ten meters down she stopped and opened the door to her own lab.

This lab was a dream come true for her and she momentarily wished she could pinch herself through her CHS. It was large, with two hundred square meters of floorspace and filled with every modern scientific instrument that United Earth had that would be useful in her work. Of course, the most important piece of equipment was a physical duplicate of the Asgard Core that stood proudly at the far end of the Lab.

Sitting in front of the Core's neo-Norse design control panel and intently reading the large display was her immediate subordinate Commander Nancy Qin. She was a shorter woman hailing of Chinese ethnicity, and was in her early thirties, with long black hair tied in a regulation braid and wearing the blue Starfleet jumpsuit with red shoulder piping. She had initially been a Starfleet Engineering graduate at the Academy, but SI had wanted her for her talent at micro-Engineering ('I built better and smaller bugs' she often joked.) Section 31 eventually decided to recruit her when they saw her potential in working with the classified technologies only they had access to.

"Captain," Qin nodded with a brief smile. "Hope you had a nice walk. How's the CHS?"

"Brilliant, I feel more comfortable in it than wearing PJs," Sam grinned.

"I just want to know how you're supposed to go to the bathroom with that thing. It doesn't seem easy to take off…"

"You don't have to," Sam laughed. "You connect the suit directly to…ehem…your plumbing and it recycles the water you expel and vaporizes the solid wastes."

"I suppose that would come in handy for long duration missions," Qin mused. "Anyway, Captain, as you saw we're finished with the Stargate in all respects, all we need now is word from _Odyssey_ that they've deployed another Gate on Alpha Site."

"How are the automated Particle Miners coming along?" Sam asked, she wondered if she would ever cease to be amazed at the wealth of knowledge the Asgard truly had. Being a diminutive, physically weak Race meant that they had to compensate by developing devices and technology that would replace physical labor in nearly every respect. Mining, which was traditionally the most labor intensive of all pursuits usually engaged in by civilization, was completely automated by the Asgard using a device that sent a specialized deep penetrating Transporter beam directly into the earth and would selectively dematerialize the specific elements wanted. It would then be rematerialized in large ingots for easy transport and eventual utilization in construction. They were designed to fit through the Gate and fly to the location of mineral veins.

And best of all, they would replace the mined volume with normal dirt taken from somewhere else…meaning that the environmental impact of the mining was very minimal.

"A hundred units are ready for transition through the Stargate the moment _Odyssey_ signals. We've also finished installing the Stealth devices in S20, which should mask any energy emissions of the Stargate from detection."

"You've been busy," Sam raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"When you're working with technology like this, it's easy," shrugged Nancy.

"Ladies."

Nancy and Sam turned to see Mr Harris standing the doorway with his usual enigmatic smile on his face, wearing his equally usual black leather 'Section 31' uniform. Sam didn't like the uniform much, despite having one herself, she felt vaguely ridiculous wearing them, not to mention their 'Gestapo' like style. Luckily they were only to be worn in certain controlled situations and only within Section 31 facilities.

"Mr Harris," Sam nodded at her actual 'boss', Harris was Director of Operations in S31. He insisted on only being called by that name and title for operational security.

"Good morning, Sir," Nancy's face became serious.

Harris walked over to them and handed Sam a Padd without fanfare. "Take a look and give me your opinion."

Sam switched the Padd on and used its touchscreen to access the files on it. It was mainly a list of schematics, and looked to be for a new class of starship, she finally happened upon the summary file that showed the final product…

"Wow," she breathed in awe.

"Keep going," Harris grinned.

Sam browsed further and found another ship class design…and another…and another…when she was finally finished she was shocked speechless. Not that it couldn't be done…it was just she was so used to the constrained confines of the SGC's budget and personnel and the need to keep things secret that it constantly clouded her thinking. But now it was a whole different story. While the secrecy element was still a factor (only less so)…with the Stargate and Asgard technology she would eventually have an entire world's resources to work with.

"These are plans for an entire Fleet…but with specialized ships each fulfilling a specific role; Fighters, Assault Shuttles, Frigate, Cruiser, Battlecruiser, Dreadnought and Carrier."

"Exactly," nodded Harris. "Section 31 believes it to be dangerous and stupid to have a space fleet with various ship-classes being able to fulfill its various mission-roles only to moderate degrees. While that's fine for the NX class as she's designed to be an Explorer and a Jack of All Trades out in the frontier, however, an explorer does not a soldier make."

"Makes sense," nodded Nancy.

"With the _Enterprise_ out there in the unknown we will inevitably be dragged into some saber rattling or even full blown wars," Harris' tone was grim. "Those do-gooder hippies in the UE Senate can moan all they want about how we're supposed to be _enlightened_ now that we're amongst the stars…that we're not supposed to have _war_ships…oh, they'll be singing a different tune when the Suliban, Klingons or God knows who else storm the gates to Sol. Thank goodness our current Prime Minister has a good head on his shoulders at least."

"So you want me to begin building a Fleet here in Shipyard 20? Using the automated Asgard Constructors and raw material shipped through the Stargate?"

"No Captain," Harris shook his head. "I don't want you to build a Fleet, I want you to build _Fleets_…I'm here to inform you that _your_ work on the Hyperspace Project is complete, and you are being transferred from the Warp 5 Complex to Utopia Planitia and are ordered to make use of all the resources at your disposal to give Earth a proper blade to strike at any enemy that threatens us."

"I'll need all the Shipyards activated and Stealthed for that to happen, and more people to oversee the Constructors," Sam said heavily after a moment. The task was overwhelming in scope! But the challenge of it called to her soul.

"That can easily be arranged," Harris grinned mysteriously. "When can you start?"

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**Enterprise**

Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker III was a happy, content man. Enterprise' Warp 6 engine was purring like a kitten and speeding along like a greyhound, his Engineering Department was working well together as a team, and by now had quite a bit of field experience under their belts…meaning that he could loosen the reigns a bit and let them run without him constantly looking over their shoulder, and finally he was off-duty at the moment in his quarters, lost in the practice of his Harmonica, whilst staring at the blurred blue warp speed distortion outside the viewport of his quarters.

He was then rather surprised when that blue distortion vanished to be replaced by the endless starfilled expanse of normal space and the Warp Drive hum abruptly powering down.

He put his harmonica down and stared out the viewport at a very large, dirty green, cargo ship, with two massive pods that was lazily approaching.

"_Archer to Commander Tucker."_

Trip tapped the com button on his desk to open the channel. "Go ahead."

"_I know you're off duty. But we've got visitors._"

"I can see that."

"_Are you up for a little repair work?"_

"Sure," Trip grinned at the prospect of getting to tinker with some new form of alien hardware.

"_Meet me at Docking Port two_."

"On my way."

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**Docking Port Two, Enterprise**

Trip approached the starboard docking port after swinging around Engineering to pick up his tool belt and a suitcase of general tools that would help for most jobs. Jon and T'Pol were already there, whilst the latter was busy with the Airlock controls.

"Anything serious?" Trip asked promptly, slightly out of breath from his hurry.

"They said they were having trouble with one of their life support systems," Jon replied half-worriedly.

"Who's they?"

"Retellian cargo pilots," answered T'Pol, tapping on the controls and the hiss of the airlock equalizing pressure. "The seal is secure."

The internal pressure door opened and two large aliens entered with rugged synthetic grey clothes, boots, and their faces were mottled with a green-yellow skin and beady black eyes.

"Welcome aboard, Goff," Jon said pleasantly.

"Gracious of you to help us, Captain. We were beginning to think our distress call would never be answered." The first alien, Goff, said grimly.

"This is Sub-Commander T'Pol and my Chief Engineer, Commander Tucker."

"Our salvation," the second alien said dryly.

"The Captain said something about life support." Trip got down to business sensing the alien's clear disapproval of his partner's choice of accepting help.

"We were hired to return a young woman to her home world. A few days ago her stasis pod began to malfunction."

"Stasis? Is she injured?" Jon enquired politely.

"No, no. She's a passenger, but our ship is designed to haul cargo, not people and it's a very long journey. Putting her in suspended animation was our only choice," Goff explained.

"We have another five months ahead of us. If she wakes up there won't be enough food, air to breathe. If we're forced to abort the mission we won't get paid," the second alien continued.

"Commander Tucker is resourceful. I'm sure he'll be able to assist you," Trip felt a slight glow of satisfaction at that endorsement from T'Pol. He wasn't arrogant, but it was sure nice to be appreciated.

"Mind if I have a look?" Trip gestured towards the airlock.

"Please," the second alien led the way and Trip followed him into the cargo ship.

"So you got a name?"

"Plinn," replied the alien as he opened his own ship's inner door. Plinn led him down a few corridors, and then down a ladder into what had to be the messiest cargo hold Trip ever had the misfortune to be in. He didn't want to list the smells his nose was picking up, and containers were piled haphazardly with no order whilst netting held them down, stains of various sorts on the floor, paint chipped bulkheads and off to one side was a frost encrusted tubular stasis pod, set into a housing at a comfortable angle for its occupant.

Trip examined it carefully, and noted the non-standard components and jury rigging, whilst hovering a specialized Scanner over it. "Looks very creative."

"These relays are from an old Ardanan shuttle. They weren't designed to carry this much current," explained Plinn with a suffering nod.

"I've got some EPS conduits that might do the trick." Trip walked around to the head of the pod, where the main touchpad controls were, but it was all in an alien writing he had never seen before. "This would be a lot easier if I could read your language. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask our Communications Officer to give me a hand."

"By all means," nodded Plinn reasonably. Trip couldn't contain his curiosity though at who would want to travel in this manner and used his sleeve rub off the frost on the tube. Now exposed was a beautiful olive skinned alien face, with elegant freckles at the temples. Trip guessed she was female…he had long ago learned to be careful with some alien races with regards to gender, he wiped some more frost to check…she had the broad hips, narrow waist and two breasts that a human female would also have, and wore a rather nice soft pink dress. "Is there a problem?" Plinn interrupted his reverie.

"No. No, no problem. I'm going to need some resources from Enterprise. With a little luck, Sleeping Beauty here will never know there was a problem," Trip grinned confidently and got to work.

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A few hours of hesitant work later Trip was under the floor of the alien cargo bay to inspect the existing main power feed linkages before he would install the new EPS conduits. He looked at his scanner and found the results rather surprising…there was a little wear, but it looked remarkably new and good condition. He was also surprised how clean it was down here…he'd half expected he would need to get into an EV suit to protect him from the assorted gunk that would usually accumulate underneath a cargo bay…but he might as well have been crawling through Enterprise' crawlspaces. That's how clean it was.

It was almost as if the awfulness of the cargo bay and the alien ship was merely a façade. It might have been to deter pirates from thinking the ship a valuable thing, or if Trip wanted to be paranoid, Goff and Plinn were clearly not just simple cargo haulers.

"Commander? Hello?" Hoshi's childlike voice reached his ears, echoing in the crawlspace. He quickly emerged out of the floorplate he had disconnected. He saw her standing there crinkling her nose in distaste at the conditions around her, holding a portable UT module.

"Is that the translation?" He asked, getting out of crawlspace and taking the module from her.

"Give or take an adverb," she confirmed, as Trip browsed through the translation, matching it to the actual symbols on the stasis pod and tapping the appropriate ones to begin his diagnosis.

"Thanks," he nodded in thought.

Hoshi looked at the woman with interest. "At least you don't have to work alone."

"Hell of a way to travel, isn't it?"

"Who is she? Any idea?"

"I asked Plinn but he doesn't seem to know too much about her. He said something about studying medicine in a research colony," Trip said with frown.

"A Doctor?" Hoshi arched a brow in surprise.

"I suppose so. She must have a real passion for it if she's willing to go through all this." Trip felt his eyes zero in automatically on the alien inside. "Shame we'll never get to meet her."

"It's not polite to stare, Commander," Hoshi pointed out with a hint of teasing in her voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trip frowned at her warningly.

"Let me know if you have any problems with that translation," Hoshi's mouth twitched in amusement and turned to leave.

"I wasn't staring." Trip objected flatly, and leaned down to begin connecting the first EPS feed. He was surprised to abruptly hear a repeated thumping coming from somewhere. He stood and nearly gaped in surprise to see that the alien in the pod was fully awake, her dark eyes indignant and thumping her fists against the inside of the tube to get out.

"Are you all right?" he asked in alarm.

She either didn't understand or ignored him and continued to thump with desperation. Trip rushed over to the controls and after consulting the UT, found the release sequence, quickly tapping it in. It bleeped a noise that was decidedly bad, and the UT translated 'Release Mechanism Offline.'

"Crap," he groused and rushed to his tool belt and grabbed a good old fashioned crowbar, to try breaking the thing open manually.

One try barely wedged the teeth inside the gap, another push barely cracked it open less than a centimeter. At this point Trip was surprised to feel rather large hands stop his third attempt. It was Goff.

"What are you doing?" demanded the alien.

"Help me open this thing!" snapped Trip as Goff saw the alien woman awake and insisting to get out. He ran to the controls.

"We can't bring her out of stasis," Goff insisted.

Trip pushed on the crowbar again. "Don't bother. The release is jammed."

Finally the locks of the tube snapped under the strain. Trip dropped his crowbar and grabbed a hold of one side of the tube and lifted it easily. "I'm sorry about this but the O2 recycler went offline," he told the woman.

"Dulsha Tot!" snapped the woman in anger at him.

"You're going to be all right," Trip reassured her, hoping to communicate through his tone of voice.

"Kosh Vos!"

Trip felt the sharp, painful impact on the back of his head briefly, before the world faded to black.

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Trip felt himself awake with a major headache; he sat up and held a hand to the back of his groaning. This was fortuitous as his arm absorbed the blow of his own damn crowbar, once again seeking to hit him over the head, it still hurt like a SOB. His adrenaline spiked and he rolled away in a flash to get some distance from his attacker.

It turned out to be the alien woman, whose eyes were spitting phase bolts at him, as she awkwardly held the crowbar in a threatening posture, and walking to closer to whack him with it again. Trip knew he could easily disarm her as she clearly didn't hold the crowbar properly as a weapon; she clearly had no combat training. It wasn't stopping her though.

"Tuvat at," she snapped, as Trip evaded back.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Trip retorted back.

"Tuvat at."

"Hold on. Hold on. I'm not working with them."

"Luvasta eeva. Destas," she spoke with narrowed eyes.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm, I'm from a starship called Enterprise." He retreated again from her advance and showed her the ship patch on the left arm of his uniform. "Enterprise. Now put that thing down and I'll untie you. Your hands, I'll free your hands." He gestured to her wrists. "Let me help you."

"Has trava dukla." Her tone was clearly suspicious and she wasn't buying it.

The door to cargo bay slammed and Goss was there, this time holding an energy pistol and aiming it threateningly. Trip interposed himself between the gun and the alien woman. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Is it repaired?" Goss asked with menace.

"Where is Captain Archer?" Trip retorted, no way he was helping this asshole pirate anymore.

"Your ship is a long way from here," he smirked.

"Slovasa toraya," the woman looked between Trip and Goss. Hopefully she's got the idea now.

"Repair the pod so we can put her back in stasis."

"It's going to take a few hours," Trip temporized.

"Work quickly." Goss backed up and left the cargo hold, locking the door.

Trip sighed wearily and took a cutting tool to snip the woman's binds. "Am sotey."

"You're welcome?" Trip looked around for his UT, it was time to get rid of this language barrier, but to his frustration couldn't find the damn thing.

"Tule bas?"

Trip rushed around looking on the floor. "Have you seen a little device? It's about this big, has a keypad on it. It's my Universal Translator. It'll help us understand each other."

"Has nos?" Trip looked back to see the woman had found it at the base of the stasis pod.

"That's it. It's just so we can talk." He gestured to the UT module, then to his mouth, and mimed a moving mouth with his fingers. She seemed to understand that and handed it over. He activated its language capture functions and translation matrices. "I need you to say something. You got to keep talking." He pointed at her and mimed talking with his hand again.

"Votni vay, atayun ponas."

"A little more," he encouraged, giving a rolling gesture.

"Akasa jorat. Foraya nuratay. fegasa ana a'hanjura."

Trip locked that in and enabled the active vocal cancellation/substitution subroutines. "Can you understand me?"

"Serotta jho."

"Where's Hoshi when you need her?" Trip griped to no one.

"Who is Hoshi?" the woman demanded.

"Ah, that's better. Would you mind telling me what's going on here?" Trip asked insistently.

"How long have I been in stasis?"

"You'd have to ask them." Trip pocketed the UT, and pulled out his Communicator from his arm pocket, just in case Goff had been exaggerating. "Commander Tucker to Enterprise. Enterprise, do you hear me?" Nothing.

"You are an officer?" she enquired with a considering air.

"Chief Engineer. Feels like we've gone to Warp," Trip muttered, hearing the somewhat familiar yet alien hum of a foreign warp drive.

"Explain yourself. What do you know about my abductors?" Her manner was rather pompous, full of self-entitlement.

"We thought they were cargo pilots. They claimed you were their passenger."

"I am their prisoner. I was returning from a diplomatic mission when they attacked my transport, murdered my guards. You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Should I?" Trip shrugged, tucking his communicator back into his jumpsuit.

"My family is known on hundreds of worlds."

"Well, I'm afraid my homeworld isn't one of them. So I take it you're not a doctor," Trip said dryly.

"I am First Monarch of the Sovereign Dynasty of Krios Prime."

"Oh. Charles Tucker the Third. Please to meet you. So what do these guys want?" Great, royalty, just what I need, Trip thought.

"Ransom. No doubt they'll demand a high price for my safe return," the Monarch said with confidence, as if it was a badge of honor.

"Listen, my Captain'll be looking for me. All we have to do is get off this ship and let him know where we are."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"This ship has a shuttlebay and I saw there were a couple of escape pod tubes on the outer hull near it."

"You're not going anywhere," she declared haughtily.

"I beg your pardon?" Trip said incredulously.

"We'll remain here until they contact the Sovereign Guard. Once the ransom has been paid, we'll be released."

"Well, if it's all the same to you I'd rather take my chances in open space," Trip shook his head at her naivety. Sure, she had that guarantee, but he didn't.

"It's too dangerous. If you leave, it would provoke them," the Monarch protested.

Trip ignored her and walked over to a hatch near one of the bulkheads, crouching next to it. "If I remember right this access tube leads to a junction near the shuttlebay."

"You are not to leave this chamber," she ordered.

"With all due respect I am not one of your subjects."

Of course, it wasn't as simple as just opening that hatch. Goss had sealed the bay completely, and there were sensors on it to detect if it was open or not. Luckily, he had all his tools with him and after a quick scan found a system maintenance port on the other end of the cargo bay. With a bit of more brute force from his crowbar, he opened it and examined the various circuitries inside.

"Could you hand me that circuit probe? The one with the green handle?" Trip asked, getting no response, he saw she was pacing insistently and ignoring him. He sighed and got the thing from the toolbox himself. "You must be one hell of a diplomat," he snarked.

"Is your entire species so ill-mannered?" she retorted.

"No, just me," he poked the probe in and began identifying which circuit led to which system.

"You know, if you were thinking rationally you'd be repairing that stasis pod. He did threaten to kill you."

"That's precisely why I'm getting out of here. I really doubt they're going to keep me around once I fix their problem. You know, I realize someone in your position isn't used to taking advice from a guy like me, but I strongly suggest you come along."

"He'd never harm me. I'm too valuable to them," she disagreed.

"I've been involved in a few hostage situations. They rarely turn out the way you expect."

"You're correct, Mister Tucker. I don't take advice from people like you."

"You know, that stasis pod won't fix itself. Chances are you're going to spend the next five months tied up in this grimy little cargo hold. Not exactly my idea of a royal voyage."

"I'll be fine."

"When I get back to Enterprise I'll make sure we get a message to your homeworld. Krios?"

"Krios Prime. Once you launch an escape pod what makes you think they won't destroy it?"

"I'm going to reroute their internal sensors. I'll be a million kilometres away before they know I'm gone. I'm much better company."

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The crawlspaces of the pirate cargo ship were narrow square affairs, and thankfully lit rather brightly. Trip led the way, pushing his toolbox along with his toolbelt securely fastened around his waist. Luckily the belt was one of the new models which sealed the tools automatically after replacing them, so they didn't fall out if he was in a crawlspace like this. The Monarch moved along awkwardly behind him, her elegant dress obstructing the freedom of her legs, but she bore it with stubbornness.

"How much farther?" she complained.

"Just a few more meters."

"Are you sure this is the right direction?"

"Keep your voice down. What am I supposed to call you, anyway? First Monarch? Your Highness?"

"Kaitaama."

"What is that? Some kind of a title?"

"It's my name." Trip nodded, then stopped and popped open a panel. He pulled out a probe and a dynamic sequencer and got to work on the systems inside. "What are you doing?"

"These lead to internal sensors." Trip grinned when the lights on the circuits died. He replaced his tools and moved further and removed a grid from the left of the crawlspace. He nimbly jumped down into the sealed shuttlebay, reached up to grab his toolbox, before helping Kaitaama out of it as well.

He walked across to the far bulkhead where four small circular doors were set into the wall. He tapped on one of the neighboring control panels next to one and was rewarded when the door irised open and revealed the cramped confines of an escape pod.

"This is meant for one person."

"We'll have to make due. Unless you know how to fly one of these things," Trip rejoined sarcastically.

She tried to get in, but this time her long dress hampered her movements fully. She scoffed in frustration and reluctantly ripped it up to her mid-thigh, exposing a rather well toned, olive skinned leg that glistened in the lights. Trip averted staring at that beautiful long leg, he rather felt it was a sin covering something like that. After she got in, Trip undid his toolbelt, dumped it in the box, pushed it in as well, and easily squeezed into the narrow confines himself.

He pushed a manual control button above his head that sealed the pod and its tube. He pulled his UT module and scanned for the launch control. In retrospect it was easy; the pod had a touchpad control panel that stretched the length of it, with display screen above it. It was a big round green button near the hatch. He slapped it.

The pod was abruptly accelerated down its tube with what felt like a combination of gravlev and explosives. The acceleration briefly overwhelmed the small inertial dampeners and squished Kaitaama against the toolbox, which both squeezed against Trip. Finally they were out of the tube.

Then the ride got really bumpy.

"What was that?" Kaitaama gasped.

Trip tapped on furiously on the pod's controls, whilst staring at the UT. "We're crossing the subspace threshold." Abruptly the rumbling stopped. "That wasn't so bad."

"What do you propose we do next?"

"To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it," Trip admitted.

"I assumed you had a plan."

"I was only joking. They do have a sense of humor where you come from?" he asked with vague disbelief.

"Among the commoners," she declared, but then gave a half-smile. "Only joking."

"It's only a matter of time before they realise we're gone. No doubt they'll come about and look for us. We need a place to hide," Trip accessed the pod sensors and stared at the results.

"Where?"

"If I'm translating this right, there's a system about ninety million kilometres from here. We should be able to reach it in a day or so."

"What makes you think any of those planets are habitable?" she pointed to the display. The range of the sensors was rather laughable; they were barely able to detect the planets in the first place.

"Only one way to find out. Permission to set a course, your Sovereignty?"

"Proceed," Kaitaama gave a trouble sigh.

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Six hours into their journey and there was no sign that Goss had found them. Trip had used most of that time to begin familiarizing himself with the pod controls, learning what does what. It wasn't easy in the close confines. Every time he tried to change position, Kaitaama would also shift, further obstructing his efforts.

"Look, this would be a whole lot easier if you'd stop moving around."

"You're touching me," she practically whined.

"I'm afraid I don't have much choice."

"It's inappropriate to touch the First Monarch," now her mercurial moods turned to anger and she glared at him again, her long dark hair had escaped her braid, which made her look even fiercer.

"You're welcome to step outside until I'm done. Excuse me." He reached to a panel above her head and tapped on its controls. "There we go. Landing thrusters, No, wait, they're stabilizers."

"You have no idea how to control this vehicle," she declared.

"I'm working on it," Trip said, forcing down his own anger.

"Even if we do find a breathable atmosphere and you manage to land without killing us, what will we do about food? Water? There could be hostile life-forms on the surface. How will we protect ourselves?"

"I have a plasma torch in my toolkit; it'll do in a pinch. Now listen, I've got less than twenty four hours to figure out how to scan a star system and program a descent sequence in a language I don't understand, and I'm not going to get it done with you interrupting me every five seconds. So I'd appreciate it if you'd keep quiet until I'm finished! Now, lift your butt."

"My what?" she asked in bafflement, the UT had obviously got confused with the slang word.

"Your behind, your rear end," Trip rolled his eyes. "I haven't checked that panel yet." He reached over her, as she lifted her…rather shapely derriere, he had to forcibly ignore the view and lifted the seat to expose a thin joystick like control.

"Quickly," she moaned awkwardly.

"You know, you were a lot more pleasant in stasis," Trip snapped, and adjusted the control. "Ah, I think I found the landing thrusters." He sat back into his side of the pod, and sighed angry with himself. "I understand how difficult this must be for someone of your upbringing, but we could be stuck out here for awhile. We should find a way to get along. I'm willing to give it a try if you are."

Kaitaama went from indignant to thoughtful, but then said, "My hand." Trip gave her a puzzled stare. "You're sitting on my hand." Trip lifted himself and allowed her to pull it away. "I'll try," she conceded softly.

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Trip had enjoyed a few hours of peace from Kaitaama's complaints after that, but then…

"Are there any provisions? I'm hungry."

"You might check that storage compartment above your head."

"You do it."

And just like that Trip's felt his anger and exasperation soar again. "I'm busy," he said shortly and continued programming their course into the computer. Kaitaama sulked visibly for a moment before doing it herself. "If you find any water up there, I could use some." A water sachet fell after she opened the hatch and it landed in his lap. "Thanks." He took a brief sip from the tube straw and made a satisfied noise at the moisture in his mouth. For her part she struggled to open a plastic container that held what looked like thick cookies inside. "Allow me." They swapped and Trip after a bit of a grunt opened the container. Kaitaama looked at the water tube suspiciously. "I'm not contagious."

Trip sniffed at a biscuit.

"Is it edible?" she asked after taking a reluctant sip.

"Depends how hungry you are," Trip said blandly after taking a bite and grimacing. She took another and nibbled very gently on it. "It reminds me of my first car."

"Car?"

"A four-wheeled vehicle. Wasn't much bigger than this. All we're missing is the ocean breeze coming off the Gulf. I used to drive out to a place called Chatkin Point, park along the shoreline and stare at the moon with my girlfriend." He saw her wary glance. "Don't worry. I won't make a pass at you."

"The Sovereign Guard would cut off one of your hands," she said forbiddingly, and even with a hint of relish.

"You must be a fun date," Trip said dryly.

"The First Monarch doesn't socialise with the opposite sex," Kaitaama explained.

"You've never been on a date?" he asked incredulously.

"Four years ago, before I was selected to ascend to First Monarch, I was courted by young men from many noble families. Now I spend my personal time in the company of my father's advisors."

"Sounds kind of lonely," Trip sighed, finishing his biscuit.

"You haven't finished your work."

"No, I haven't," he smiled and began further programming.

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They both took the opportunity to get some sleep in turns, over the next twenty hours. Finally, they reached orbit of the planet within the system's liquid water zone, and was able to scan the planet itself with the pod's underpowered sensors.

The display showed a pure blue planet and…

"It's all water," Kaitaama said with worry.

"There's a chain of islands near the equator," Trip pointed out, zooming in with the display.

"Will we be able to breathe?"

Trip tapped the controls and declared with relief, "Oxygen, nitrogen, a trace of methane. Nothing we can't handle."

"Do you detect any lifeforms?"

"If I could figure out how to use the bio-sensors."

"Are you certain we have the correct planet?"

"It's the only one in the liquid water zone with an atmosphere."

"You may begin our descent," she sighed worriedly and sat back.

"Let's hope I get this right." Trip mumbled and began the descent by locking in the islands as a target and engaging his program. The computer waited until they finished another orbit before it suddenly fired maneuvering thrusters that tipped the pod so that its main thrusters aimed against their orbit. Barely a second later those same thrusters fired at full blast.

The pod gracefully began its controlled tumble to the planet below. The moment they struck the thermosphere, the air friction against their extreme velocity began to heat up the hull. Trip felt like he was in a blender with amount of uncompensated inertia that was getting past the pod's dampeners. The pod oriented with thrusters towards the planet and now began firing to slow their descent.

The computer gave a warning bleep ten seconds later.

"The port stabiliser's down," Trip said grimly his hands tapping on the controls to trim their descent trajectory.

"Can you repair it?" gasped Kaitaama.

"No, but the starboard one should keep us on course."

The ride got even rougher as air currents in upper atmosphere started buffeting them.

"Mister Tucker!" she cried in fear.

"So far so good. Eight thousand meters. I think they're meters. Seven thousand. I'm pretty sure the braking thrusters are firing. Five thousand metres. You might want to grab hold of something." She complied by grabbing him, putting her arms around him. "Two thousand metres. One thousand. Hold on."

The world suddenly felt like it was turned upside down and Trip felt a hard pain against his back as the pod landed with more vertical velocity than was entirely comfortable. He ignored it and strained to get back to his seat. A glance at the pod's displays showed that it was vertical against the ground. He grabbed a hold of his toolbox, before discharging the pod's gravity plating.

For the first time he felt the native gravity…

"Hmmm, probably .9 or .8 G," he muttered. He climbed past Kaitaama up to the egress hatch, and opened it, getting onto the exterior of pod. He reached in and helped his fellow escapee up as well. They had landed in lush, water logged swamp, with rising steam from the water and animal noises echoing around them. Add to this the fact that it was early evening and rather dark, except for the reflective light from three moons, it made for a decidedly eerie scene.

Fifteen minutes of preparation and unloading later, they were wading through the knee high water towards the nearby dry ground with any supplies they had in tow.

"This heat is unbearable," she complained.

"It's nothing compared to a summer in the Everglades. At least there aren't any mosquitoes," Trip said thankfully.

"Where are we going?"

"Over there," he pointed to an area underneath a few alien trees that looked like it would provide good shade in the day, with higher and dry land. "Looks like a good place to set up camp."

"Your vessel will never find us here," she declared darkly.

"Don't underestimate Captain Archer."

They sat down with a huff of relief underneath the trees after putting their meager supplies down. Kaitaama immediately took off her water logged shoes and put them on a nearby rock to dry. She looked down and saw his back.

"You're bleeding."

"It's just a scratch," disagreed Trip.

"We have no idea what microbes live in this environment. It could become infected," she declared with a surprising tone of worry,

"I said later."

"You're my only hope of surviving here, Mister Tucker. I don't intend to let you die."

Trip sighed in resignation and stood, unzipping and pulling off the top of his jumpsuit with a wince, and then removing the blue undershirt. Kaitaama was looking at the pod's small first aid kit with no clue what did what. He tied the jumpsuit around his waist so it's top didn't get in the way before looking at each tube and smelling the contents. Finally he found one that had that tang of antiseptic alcohol, the UT also confirmed it. "This one," he handed her the right tube and sat down.

She kneeled behind him and began to smear a generous portion of the ointment on his back wound. The pain made him twitch. "Hold still," she commanded. "The provisions won't last for more than a day."

He bore the burning pain and said, "It sounds like there's plenty of wildlife. I grew up in a place kind of like this. I don't think we're going to starve. And I can use the thruster assembly from the pod to start a fire, boil some water." He felt her elegant hands linger for a moment on his back. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said softly.

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With the oppressive heat, it was very tempting to just lie down and nap, but Trip knew they had to get on with the work of survival. He sent a reluctant Kaitaama to find dry wood, whilst he disassembled one of the thrusters. He decided to stay bareback due to the heat, and hauling the heavy thruster to dry land was a cast iron SOB. He was done with that and busy with jury rigging the thing to only provide a low flame instead of thousands of pounds of thrust, when Kaitaama returned.

Her face was a personification of petulance and frustration as she chucked a few measly twigs between the stones where the fire would be.

"That's the best you could do?" Trip was incredulous.

"There's very little dry wood."

"Keep looking," Trip all but commanded. She didn't respond and simply sat down on the rock her shoes were drying on. "What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not your servant. You're the one who was raised in a primitive environment. You find the wood," she folded her arms stubbornly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trip snapped in anger.

"You're obviously better suited to physical labor," her eyes raking up Trip's decently muscled form.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're not in a palace. You said it yourself. You won't survive without my help, so it seems to me that I'm the one in charge. The king of the swamp!" He gestured with his macrocaliper expansively around him. "Now get your ass out there and don't come back without an armful of dry wood!"

"I should have you imprisoned for speaking to me that way," she retorted.

"You should give me a medal. You'd be dead if it weren't for me!"

"I'm beginning to think that would be preferable."

"I doubt the commoners back home would complain," he smirked back. She stood suddenly with that fury in her eyes again and stepped right into Trip's personal space. She reared back with her right arm intending to slap him, but he easily caught the attack. She suddenly flung her whole weight against him unexpectedly, and they both tumbled to the ground, rolling down the gentle slope and directly into the water.

"How dare you!" she screamed.

Trip spluttered, easily shrugged her off and got out of the water. "You're the one who took a swing at me."

She too got up, her dress now sopping wet and clinging to her form. If Trip hadn't been so angry he would've been thoroughly distracted with such a beautiful sight. "You insulted the First Monarch!"

"I'm just a petty commoner, remember?! Raised on a primitive…"

Trip couldn't finish the sentence, since he was unexpectedly interrupted by the First Monach flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him rather thoroughly. She abruptly broke it and backed off, breathing heavily her eyes smoldering at him. He felt caught like a fly in a web in that look, and walked forward to this time capture her between his arms and delve in for a searing kiss.

He didn't know how long that lasted, but suddenly she pushed off him and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him back to dry land. When they were back under the tree, their lips met again and her tongue boldly asked entrance, which he automatically allowed. Her hands roamed on his abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Finally, she broke the kiss again, but pushed him down onto the dry ground, and began to clumsily pull off his boots, socks, then almost delicately untying his jumpsuit and pulled it off his legs. Now only in his boxer underwear, she leaned over him and kissed him again, but hesitantly moved away to grace her lips over his chest and then abdominals. Her right hand hovered at the strap of his boxers and her eyes sought his…

…he nodded. Just like that it was pulled off leaving him naked on his back. Her eyes looked fascinated for a moment and then another smoldering smile appeared on her face. She was breathing heavily now as well, and with nervous jerking movements straddled his waist. She began to pull up her dress, but Trip had managed to get some function back into his brain and halted her.

"You sure?"

She nodded and pulled in a smooth movement. He gasped as she too was unexpectedly naked…guess she didn't wear underwear or her dress has support features included in it, but soon he was lost as the beauty of her nude form slammed into his brain. Her olive skin glistened in the moonlight, catching on her breasts invitingly. A part of his brain noted that her freckles reoccurred in a rather enticing pattern all over her. She was also clearly in shape, despite her 'Royal lifestyle'.

She leaned down, shrouding his world with a curtain of her hair, the feeling of skin on skin contact, the feeling of her breasts compressing against his chest…and then her kiss came again. The combination of sensations had him more than ready for her. Her hand reached back to grasp him and she sat up again. He had to seriously concentrate on his brinkmanship not to climax just from the sensation of her delicate hands on him, manipulating him, positioning as she guided herself to be impaled.

His eyes were locked on her as she busied herself with the task.

Then he felt wet heat surround his tip, and he groaned with the effort to prevent release and the pleasure of it. She slowly settled forward on her knees, her eyes closed and moaning herself at the sensation of him sliding fully into her.

For a moment, she simply sat there, having to support herself by leaning with her hands on his chest, while his hands caressed up and down her arms and flanks.

"You okay?" he managed to ask through his own heavy breathing.

"The sensation is different; I am reminded that you are actually an alien," she gasped as he thrusted upwards a little. "Al- Although it's very pleasurable nevertheless."

"And here I thought you were…inexperienced," Trip grinned and thrust again, this time she countered by flexing her own inner vaginal muscles in a way that was decidedly not human. He groaned and had to seriously focus on not exploding underneath her right there. When he had mastered himself to be coherent she was grinning wickedly down at him.

"While I may be part of the royal family and was rigidly guarded, I did have a few secret teenage romances, Mister Tucker." She shifted herself up and down his length once and practically hissed with pleasure. Trip busied himself with testing a theory and started caressing her patterned freckles, first on either side of hips, then that lovely pattern that led to her groin, the ones in the valley and sides of her breasts. "Ah! By the _Shesnan _How…?!" She lost her own capacity for speech at his actions, and he grinned in satisfaction, but after half a minute of this she went wild.

She pushed away his arms and began shifting herself up and down on him with a powerful urgent energy. Her hisses and cries of pleasure, accompanied by his groans echoed into the night. Trip didn't know how long it took them but soon he didn't have the strength anymore to hold back, he managed to give her a warning. To which she simply shook her head and continued…

He gasped as he journeyed to the clouds of ecstasy, Kaitaama managed to follow a few moments afterwards.

This was not the last such journey they managed that night, but soon enough they were both completely spent. However, much he wished he could simply curl up and sleep, they had to get a fire going. They nibbled on their meal biscuits and dressed back into their now dry clothes, before curling up together next to the small fire.

"Mister Tucker?"

"Call me Trip…" he murmured sleepily.

"Trip, how did you know about a Kriosian female's pleasure marks?"

"Educated guess, evolution had to put them there for a reason…"

"Oh. Good night."

"Night…"

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Trip woke first the next morning, gently extricating himself from Kaitaama to begin boiling some water. He had no illusions that their night truly meant anything. It was just a fling from someone who was trapped way out of her element and who would probably soon never be able to do anything on impulse for the rest of her life. Heck, it had also been done on impulse on his own part, but there was no way he could experience that level of closeness with someone and not develop at least some feeling for her.

Then there was also the ever present possibility that Enterprise would be unable to locate them in a reasonable time-frame. He didn't want to think about that. Starfleet had a rule – if personnel are missing for more than four weeks from their assigned vessel – they are declared MIA and their starship is to cease actively looking for them and return to primary mission. Trip didn't want to entertain the chance that he and Kaitaama would have to live out the rest of their lives on this planet. Yet, he had to prepare for the possibility and having good relations with his only company was essential to that.

His musings was interrupted with the boiling of the water, but just as he pulled off the metallic cup another sound reached his ears…a distinctly artificial beeping…coming from the escape pod!

He sprang into action, rushing into the water and towards the pod.

"What's wrong?" Kaitaama asked, also awakened by the beeping. Trip reached the pod, and spotted a panel behind which a blue light was flashing and the source of the beep. He ripped it open, gave one look and wanted to kick himself for forgetting.

"A homing beacon. Unless I'm way off someone just locked on to it." Trip grabbed a nearby rock and smashed it into the exposed circuitry…it cracked and shattered in a satisfying manner before going dead.

"Your vessel?" she asked hopefully.

"No way to tell, but I think we have to prepare for some bad company, just in case."

It was once again evening until any movement was spotted by the two castaways. Trip hoped his plan would work. He had jury rigged his scanner and communicator to emit a general jamming signal which should disrupt any handheld scans from pinpointing their lifesigns. Of course, it also confirmed to the pirate their location, but only in a general area of two hundred meters, and there was a lot of vegetation to hide within that area. He also (although it rankled his Southern gentlemanly instincts) planned to use Kaitaama as bait, but Goss wanted to kill him, not her.

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The pirate approached cautiously in a crouch, his pistol up and aiming at the blue jumpsuited figure. He made doubly sure of his aim, because his very valuable hostage was right next to that meddling Engineer. He fired.

A searing green particle beam drew a line and hit the figure. The Monarch gasped and whirled looking at him with fear and swiftly ran away.

Goss rushed forward to confirm the kill, only to be astonished when he saw it was actually a uniform stood up with crude stilts made of sticks and some form of indigenous fruit mounted on top as a head. He had been unable to see this in the darkness of the evening.

He cursed and whirled around to track the direction the Monarch had gone in. Surely she would head towards the engineer as well, being clearly frightened.

Goss was abruptly flattened into the water with the heavy impact of Trip's full body weight landing atop him. His particle pistol flew out of his hands as the pirate tried to absorb the fall instinctively.

Trip logrolled the pirate over and shoved the tip of his plasma welder under Goss neck.

"You better calm down, if you don't I might trigger the plume of this welder under your chin…so unless you want your brains fried by plasma…"

Goss sneered but the fight went visibly out of his dark eyes and he stopped struggling.

Kaitaama rushed over produced a pair of cable ties from his toolkit, which allowed Trip to secure the pirate's arms. Trip hauled the pirate over to dry ground with effort and dumped him face first when he heard more movement in the brush. He whirled towards it, aiming his welder…it wouldn't be much use beyond five meters, but it was something at least.

"Trip?" The familiar voice of his Captain and best friend made the tension in him disappear, like mist before the sun. Jon emerged from the brush, phase pistol and scanner in hand looking at his friend with bemusement at his state of dress. T'Pol and Malcolm was behind him, the latter with a broad knowing grin on his face. "This a bad time."

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_Captain's Star log, September 12th, 2152. We've rendezvoused with a Krios battle cruiser, which has taken the kidnappers into custody._

Trip, freshly showered and in a fresh uniform, walked with Kaitaama along the corridor towards the Port docking collar of _Enterprise_. She was also as fresh as daisies, but her dress had been a lost cause in terms of repair. So she had been issued a generic blue Starfleet jumpsuit by the Quartermaster, it was slightly too big, but her beauty made it look good. It had been rather easy to find the Krios Battlecruiser, it had been in the sector searching for Kaitaama anyway. She had been able to raise them on subspace and they had been able to arrange for a rendezvous.

Trip wished he could have a poke around that Battlecruiser; it was only a hundred and sixty meters long, but it looked like it was highly maneuverable and had a decent punch in its particle cannons. He imagined a squadron of them operating in concert was nothing to sneeze at.

"So, when do you ascend?" he asked.

"Two hundred and forty six days."

"It's a long shot, but maybe _Enterprise_ will get the chance to visit Krios Prime before then. Of course, from what you've told me I doubt your family would let me see you."

"I doubt they would, but once I've been made First Monarch I'll have the authority to change the rules."

"What kind of changes?" Trip asked despite himself.

Kaitaama stopped and leaned very close, her eyes sending that same smoldering look into his…

"Come visit me. Perhaps you'll find out."

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_A/N: Credit for the CHS comes from Mass Effect, and its appearance is similar. Hope you enjoyed._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Captain's Starlog, September 18th, 2152. We've entered orbit of an uninhabited planet around the star designated Alpha Trianguli. Our scans show it's teeming with all sorts of plant and animal life. I'll be leading a survey team to the surface._

* * *

**Launch Bay, Enterprise, 108 LY from Earth**

"There's a gorge on the southern continent five times deeper than the Grand Canyon."

Jon smiled at his friend's infectious enthusiasm. "What have you got in mind?"

"How about a little river rafting? T'Pol says it only gets dark four days a month because of the binary suns. We'll have plenty of daylight left after we're done working every night."

They reached the shuttlepod, and settled inside after storing some more supplies in its rear hold. Jon grabbed the pilot's seat and began the pre-flight, whilst Trip settled behind the tiny Operations console. "It's going to take at least a week to complete the survey. Should be enough time to sneak in some R and R."

The com chime interrupted their conversation.

"_Bridge to Captain Archer."_ T'Pol's cool tone droned into their personal space.

"Go ahead."

"_We've got an alien vessel approaching. They're hailing us."_

"Put them through to Shuttlepod One." Jon shared a pleasantly surprised smile, glancing back towards Trip.

"_Yes sir."_

Trip nodded in satisfaction. "New planet, new aliens. Banner day."

Jon turned to small display screen to the right of the pilot's console, and after tapping a few buttons, accepted the incoming feed from the Bridge. An image appeared of three humanoid bald aliens with rather pale skin, dressed in equally alien jackets and trousers, all seemingly male, standing next to each other in the moderately cramped control centre of their ship.

The one standing prominently in the centre began to speak, and as usual the UT was lagging their words._ "We're very relieved to see you. I'm Rellus Tagrim. This is my crew."_

"Captain Archer of the Starship Enterprise. Something we can do for you?"

Tagrim's tone was distinctly bleak. "_Considering the circumstances, we would like permission to come aboard as soon as possible._"

"What circumstances?" Jon frowned.

"_The Neutronic Wavefront, it's almost here,_" Tagrim replied in an obvious tone.

Trip consulted the ship's feed from his station. "Nothing on sensors."

"_You should detect the storm in a few minutes. Once we're aboard, I suggest you go to warp seven immediately_. _That should allow us to escape being enveloped in it_."

Jon's mind whirled back to his Astrophysical phenomena classes at the Academy…and what he remembered made him fear for the lives of his crew and his ship. He gave a dark glance to his friend, before turning back to the screen.

"Our top speed is Warp Six."

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**Situation Room, Enterprise, in orbit of Alpha Trianguli III**

The flat table monitor showed in all its ugly glory the monstrosity of a storm that was fast approaching their position to the Alpha Shift Bridge crew. This would mark the first time a human starship encountered a Neutronic Wavefront as powerful as this one. T'Pol, as Science Officer, naturally led the briefing.

"Neutronic Wavefronts are not fully understood, all experiments to determine their origin and the conditions that give rise to them have met with failure. The leading theory is that they emerge into real space from a subspace domain not accessible to current technology. This Wavefront that faces us; spans more than half a dozen light years, and three light years in the Z-plane. A Vulcan starship encountered a class five over a century ago. The vessel was…nearly destroyed."

Jon paced around the table restlessly. "How long till it hits our position?"

"Approximately four hours."

Lieutenant Reed folded his arms, frowning in thought. "If we reinforce structural integrity we should be able to weather it without too much trouble,"

"_Enterprise_ may survive," Dr Phlox spoke up, his typical bubbly manner all but gone. "The crew is another matter. The storm is saturated with radiolytic isotopes. If the crew is exposed, they'll be dead within three minutes."

Ensign Mayweather pointed to the ship diagnostic screen. "Our new Shields should keep that out."

"It will take eight days to traverse the phenomenon, should the Shields waver or fluctuate in any way, which it inevitably will against a storm of this magnitude…a single neutronic surge could then overload our power grid and damage critical systems," T'Pol explained. "That is exactly what happened to the Vulcan ship, which had also hoped to weather the storm with Shields engaged."

Trip was staring at a wall monitor thoughtfully, which was displaying a series of detailed _Enterprise_ ship schematics to him in sequence. "What about the planet?"

"What?" Jon stopped next to him, wondering where his Chief Engineer was going with this.

"Will the wavefront affect it in any way?"

"The planet is a Minshara-Class," T'Pol tapped the display table and brought up the latest scans done of it. "As such it has an impressive natural magnetic field which will channel the wavefront away from it."

"Then I propose we use that as our infallible shield," Trip turned to the table screen and tapped the radial lines showing the planet's magnetosphere.

"The highest altitude that would safe is just within the planet's mesosphere," T'Pol flashed a raised eyebrow at him. "The Wavefront will take seventeen days to pass us if we were to remain here. Are you suggesting we keep _Enterprise_ in constant atmospheric flight for that time?"

Ensign Mayweather grinned. "It'll certainly give me and the other Helmsmen a good workout."

"Now that would be a waste of a valuable time," Trip shook his head. "Ever since I heard that the _Odyssey_ could actually land if it wanted to, I've been looking into the possibility of giving _Enterprise_ a similar ability without having to refit back in Sol."

"And?" Jon felt intrigued.

"Well, we can replicate and assemble four of these," he tapped a button on the wall monitor and a schematic appeared. "Dynamic Gravitic Pulse emitters, they're what manoeuvres the _Odyssey_. We mount them at strategic stress points on the underside of the saucer section and we can hover _Enterprise_ indefinitely just a few meters above ground. Best of all, they work straight through the hull, so we don't need any EVA to install 'em." Trip grinned at his crewmate's stunned expressions.

Jon didn't doubt that he could do just that, Trip was never one to blow hot air about anything to do with _Enterprise_ herself. The ship had never been designed with an Anti-Grav engine that you could find on any skycruiser plying the travel lanes on Earth and her colonies. It had never been conceived that majestic _Enterprise_ would need to do something as pedestrian as _land_.

Jon made a mental note to send a recommendation to Captain Jeffries on fixing that oversight for the next class of Exploratory Cruiser.

"Well, we're going to have some pretty impressive photos to send back home by the time this over."

888888888888

Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. There was no way Trip could build the Gravitic pulse emitters in four hours and mount it, so for the first two days Enterprise would have to keep itself in constant atmospheric flight. Then another complication presented itself, the three alien guests.

Jon had wondered why they just didn't land their small warp shuttle on the planet and wait out the storm.

He and Phlox were just outside Decon, waiting for the scan cycle to finish, making sure the aliens didn't carry anything within them that would be lethal or at the very least, give his crew runny noses.

The humming of the chamber ended and Phlox nodded with a mild smile, after studying the bio-readouts. Jon entered the code to unlock the door, allowing the three aliens into _Enterprise_.

"Sorry to keep you in there so long. Please," Jon gestured graciously for them to proceed.

Tagrim's reply was brisk. "We understand,"

"We've arranged guest quarters for you. Please follow me."

As the five of them walked through the corridors of Enterprise, Jon asked probingly whilst trying to remain subtle, "My Science Officer tells me you're from the Takret system. That's a long way from here, over twenty light years."

"Our work often takes us far from home,"

One of the other aliens, who had been introduced as Renth elaborated. "We're stellar cartographers."

"Really? Once the storm passes maybe you can help us update our star charts."

"Passes?" Tagrim's face scrunched up in what was probably the Takret version of a human frown.

"Oh yes, we've decided to use the planet as a shield, whilst we make some modifications to allow us to land _Enterprise_." Jon instantly saw the alarm and even fear in the eyes of the aliens as they suddenly stopped and looked at each other. "Is there a problem, gentlebeings?"

Distinct non-verbal communication took place with odd gestures, shrugs, hand signs, Jon was sure this was the first time he'd seen alien sign language. Finally, it ended and what seemed like a regretful look stole over Tagrim's face.

"I apologize for my subordinate's lie, we're not cartographers," Tagrim rippled his shoulders. "He was perpetuating an ill-conceived deception. I also apologize for omitting our true purpose in coming to this planet and your ship."

Jon narrowed his eyes, his lips thinning. "And that is?"

"We were officers in the Takret Militia, in the lower ranks, but after a year we realised that the commanding officers were corrupt. They seize alien vessels without provocation. They murder the crews, take anything of value. They're little more than criminals."

"You deserted then?"

"Yes," Guri, the third alien replied. "We tried to resign our commissions but they wouldn't allow it."

"And now you're being hunted down as fugitives?"

"If they find us, we'll be executed," Tagrim replied bleakly. "If we weren't being pursued we would have simply landed and waited for the Neutronic wavefront to pass. But the Militia has our trail; they're perhaps a day or two behind us."

"And now they'll see us harbouring you…" Jon sighed in frustration. It was amazing, one minute you think all you have to worry about it Mother Nature, the next you suddenly have alien pirates on your doorstep.

"Captain, I apologise for the difficult position that we've put you in, but I know these men. Even if they just took us, I doubt they'd simply leave. They've captured vessels far less impressive than yours," Tagrim stated knowingly.

"If they're a day or two behind you, wouldn't they also be caught in the Wavefront?" Jon pointed out logically.

"The hulls of the Militia's ships are well adapted to fly through the Wavefronts and protect the crew; they're quite common around the Takret system. The Militia uses this to their advantage since this region of space is also commonly plagued by them. When ship crews are forced to hunker in the more heavily shielded sections of their vessels, it leaves them more vulnerable to attack," Guri explained.

Jon sighed and started to pace, considering his options. "You're telling me there's no way to avoid this degenerating into a fight?"

"No Captain...I'm sorry…"

Jon raised a hand to interrupt, "No need, but before I do anything…irrevocable, I will determine the other side of this story. _You_ could be the actual criminals, spinning a story to get me to blast what may be the official Takret authorities into oblivion."

"I understand, Captain," Tagrim rippled his shoulders again.

"Until that time, I'm restricting you three to quarters and keeping you under armed guard. If you're being truthful, you'll be free to go after I deal with the Militia. How many ships are after you?"

"The Militia isn't that big, Captain. Only one ship, perhaps a quarter the size of yours, armed with particle and plasma cannons."

"Shielded?"

"No, only hull polarization, a Shield system is too problematic in a Wavefront. You'll also have the advantage as they're too used to simply surprising unprepared crews."

"Bullies." Jon scowled. "I hate bullies."

88888888888888

_Enterprise_ slowed itself down and carefully de-orbited out of the vacuum of space, guided carefully by Ensign Mayweather. It was rather rocky ride as the ship passed an altitude of a hundred kilometres and further descended beyond eighty five kilometres and into the mesosphere of Alpha Trianguli III before finally levelling out.

"Deflectors at maximum, Shields at one hundred percent, Captain" reported Lt Reed. This had to be done because the mesosphere of any planet was where meteors usually burned up and Jon really didn't feel like getting a hole the size of a small car smashed in his ship.

"What's our speed, Travis?"

"Hypersonic, Mach 9, Sir."

"Keep it there, when is the Wavefront due?"

"Thirty seconds," replied T'Pol.

"On screen."

The fore view of the curved horizon and clouds speeding past below, was replaced with an angle which clearly showed the encroaching spatial anomaly. It dominated the sky and was rather beautiful to look at, with purples and blues that broiled and frothed, occasionally it would also twinkle with silver sparkled light.

"I want every sensor we have turned on this thing, the data we could gather on it will no doubt keep the astrophysicists happy for years. Of course, I also want to know the instant our Takret Militia friends show up."

"The wavefront will hit the planet in, five, four, three, two, one…."

There was a breathless few moments as T'Pol swivelled her chair to look into her Scanning Scope – there was a slight chance that the wavefront could push its way through the magnetosphere if its intensity was perhaps higher than they estimated.

"The wavefront is being deflected."

Everyone on the Bridge let out explosive sighs of relief.

"Excellent, not that I doubted it," Jon nodded in satisfaction. "I want shortened watch rotation until the Takret show up."

"Captain," T'Pol acknowledged the order.

888888888888888

Jon lay back on the bed in his quarters, studying a Padd that had a formal report from Trip on his installation of the Grav Pulse emitters, as well as a proposal to remove the standard Thruster assemblies and replace them with yet more emitters. There was also the math which theoretically proved that it would make _Enterprise_ as manoeuvrable as a jack rabbit on steroids, at least in comparison to her current rates of turn.

The idea was sound, but he felt that getting rid of the Thrusters was removing a possible backup system. If _Enterprise_ was without power for whatever reason, due to battle damage or other unforeseen circumstances, they'd still be able to manually fire thrusters.

His eyes were drawn again to his cabin viewport – which had the very unusual view of that had been dominating it for the past day or so. A violet tinged sky above, filled the currents of the neutronic wavefront, and below a constantly moving horizon of a planet. It was decidedly beautiful and Ensign Lorman from Astrometrics had already a half-finished oil painting of one particular scene where a plasma eddy was deflected in a spectacular fashion across most of the horizon. He was thinking of asking her for a second one to put in his Ready room.

His attention was returned to the Padd and he browsed to the next report, which was a general Fleet update. It was sure an eye opening read. Over the last two months, eight ships all NZ classes, had been steadily recalled and rotated through the Earth Shipyards for refitting to be capable of Warp 6, not to mention a general defensive upgrade to sport the same weapons and shields that _Enterprise_ now bore – this refit program would continue until the entire NZ fleet was to a similar standard which would be completed in another year.

It would be the only class to get the refit; the NV Fighters were considered too old and were being decommissioned in favour of a new design that was currently in the experimental phase, Jon noted with a grin that _Captain_ Cameron Mitchell was listed as being in charge on that.

Jon finished the rest and switched off the Padd, thinking of the repercussions of this. Terran space would now become rapidly untenable for the pirates that kept menacing the trade routes and they would be rapidly surprised at their next raid when a Starfleet ship intercepted them a whole lot faster than they had counted on.

"_T'Pol to Captain Archer."_

"Archer here."

"_Please report to the Bridge. The Takret have arrived_."

"On my way."

He hated being in a Turbolift during such times, the damn thing always felt too slow and as such he repeatedly pushed the button for Deck One. He emerged onto the Bridge.

He sat in his chair, "Report."

"We located them on passive sensors just as we were finishing our last orbit," T'Pol explained.

"Tactical," Jon ordered after a moment's thought. The fore viewscreen changed to show a diagram of the planet and where _Enterprise_ and the Takret Militia ship was in relation to each other.

"Nice flying Ensign," Jon complimented. Travis had reacted quickly to the arrival and made sure to keep the distance between _Enterprise_ and the Takret constant, and well beyond their active scanning range.

"I can't take all the credit, Sir." Mayweather announced. "Tagrim was kind enough to provide us with more of their tactical capabilities in these conditions. Their sensors aren't as detailed as ours, and the disturbances of the magnetosphere deflecting the wavefront are obscuring our energy profile rather nicely."

"For the moment," Lt Reed temporized, "if they were to come down to this altitude we'd be detected in short order. The way I see it, the Takret commander has two choices, either he thinks our new _friends_ have managed to escape the wavefront, or they're somewhere inside it – in which case this planet is the ideal place to look."

"Either way I'm not going to let them on their way. Since our run-in with those Klingon pirates I've been in consultation with Starfleet Command for a formal stance on what any Explorer class vessel should do when it encounter acts of piracy or those who are clearly pirates in sensor range. They've replied; 'Those committing theft and murder in the void of space, inhibiting trade, and endangering interstellar communications are considered by Starfleet to be _hostis sentio generis_.'"

"Enemies of sentient life," Lt Reed translated with a firm nod.

"Exactly, so we're taking a page out of our Vulcan friends' book," Jon grinned at T'Pol who raised an expressive eyebrow in return. "Travis, I want an Intercept course but keep us in the mesosphere, Hoshi, can we communicate with them?"

"With this amount of interference between us and them," her youthful face scrunched up in thought, "I might be able to get you a basic audio channel, Captain."

"Set it up."

"Aye, sir."

"Course laid in, Captain."

"Malcolm, I want Battle Stations, but don't be obvious about it."

"Yes, sir." Lt Reed replied with even more satisfaction as he triggered the ship system protocols he had recently developed after a review of crew performance during hostile encounters. Now, with the push of single button from him; Shields were raised, Triphase Cannons charged, Photon Torpedoes loaded in their tubes, the crew armed themselves with Phase pistols that were secreted behind biometric access panels near their stations – his armoury department geared up with the Class 3 Pulse rifles and deployed to key sections to repel possible boarders. In addition, the Bridge and ship lighting was muted somewhat and red lights flashed from the fixtures.

"Take us to them, Travis."

It was barely five minutes of watching the dot that represented the Takret ship getting closer when…

"We've entered their passive sensor range," T'Pol announced. "They've gone active…they know we're here and they've also detected Tagrim's shuttle…altering course to intercept."

"Let them come to us," Jon sensed the emotion on the Bridge going up a few notches. They watched the range counter on the Tactical steadily count down, then the Takret started to descend. "Hail them."

"Channel open."

"This is Captain Archer of the Starship _Enterprise_, how can we help you?"

"_Captain Sheror of the Takret Militia, you have a vessel in your launch bay that belongs to three fugitives."_

"Fugitives? I was under the impression that they were stellar cartographers who wanted to ride out the Wavefront with us."

"_They are anything but, Captain Archer_."

"Very well, since you are seemingly representing the legitimate government of your species, I will let them into your custody and we can go our separate ways."

"_I'm afraid that's impossible, Captain. Your vessel will be impounded under the authority of the Takret Militia. When we return to the Takret System, you'll be charged with criminal conspiracy."_

"Twenty light years is a long way for justice, Sheror. In any case, I don't recognize your authority in this case, your summary and unreasonable judgement demonstrates clearly to me you're just a pirate cloaking himself in fairness. Archer out."

"Weapons hot, Lieutenant."

"Aye Sir, my best _fish_ are in the tubes and ready."

Jon waited until the Takret ship had entered the mesosphere and immediately particle cannon fire lashed across five hundred kilometre distance now separating the two ships. _Enterprise_' shields were hardly strained at all stopping the beam in its tracks.

"Sir, their particle cannons are clearly optimized for space combat only, in the atmosphere they're loosing beam cohesion…our shields will hold indefinitely if they keep that up."

"Then let's not give them the chance to switch to plasma…fire torpedoes. Keep our distance at a hundred kilometres."

Four torpedoes were accelerated out of _Enterprise_ by the rail-gun style launchers, their protective forcefields giving them an angry red halo as they streaked towards the Takret ship.

"Torpedoes on course and accelerating to maximum rated atmospheric speed, time to impact, seventeen seconds," reported Lt Reed. "They're attempting to intercept the torpedoes, evasion pattern Sigma engaged. Thoron fields are holding…anti-matter detonation!"

A three kilometre wide fireball flashed into existence, and sent out a thermal displacement shockwave that immediately turned the very thin air for twenty eight kilometres around into an inferno of high temperature. Lt Reed had known well this possibility and had programmed the torpedo courses in a hundred kilometre spread between each one, therefore the destruction of one didn't chain react with the others.

The Takret managed to intercept another, but only with sustained fire could they overwhelm the protective Thoron fields, and so with a combined explosion of a hundred and twenty four megatons bracketing the Takret ship, it utterly overwhelmed the hull polatrization in less than a femtosecond and atomized it.

"Target destroyed, sir." Reed reported factually.

"Note in the log, pirate vessel operating under Takret national colours was destroyed."

Jon stood from his chair, feeling a distinct distaste for what he had just done settling into his stomach. It was hard, it wasn't civilized, but it would be the easy thing to let these pirates go and continue with their marauding ways and it sure as hell wouldn't make the quadrant or the galaxy a safer place unless someone took a stand. The Vulcans had done so early in the spacefaring history to deter attacks, and now it was Humanity's turn.

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**Launch Bay, Enterprise**

After two weeks of surveying the planet, whilst landed, the Neutronic Wavefront had finally passed.

"I want to thank you again, Captain, for what you did…we owe you our freedom and lives," said Tagrim, waving his hands in the Takret gesture of deep respect. Jon returned it. Hoshi had been spending a lot of time with the three former fugitives to learn about their species and culture – in other circumstances Jon would've sent a formal request back that diplomatic relations be established between Earth and Takret, but with a corrupt and even rogue military that would never happen.

"It was our pleasure," Jon smiled. "Where are you headed next?"

"The Gyrannan System. We should be safe there."

"Good luck."

Tagrim gave another hand signal, which was the Earth equivalent of a goodbye wave and joined his two fellows in the warp shuttle. As he watched the shuttle drop and disappear into the void of space from the safety of the control booth, he wondered.

What impact those three would have on the future? He had essentially killed perhaps twenty people…no, pirates, to give them that freedom. Was it worth it?

After a few minutes of just staring at the slowly pressurizing Launch Bay, he could only answer…Yes.

* * *

**UES Odyssey**

He eyed the assembled pilots standing at attention in front of their chairs in the Squadron briefing room critically, "Take your seats." When all of the former NV class pilots sat promptly and readied their Pads for his briefing he stood loosely next to the lectern.

"Welcome to the _Odyssey_, the most highly classified ship in Starfleet. You've already been given the five cent tour by my first officer, so I trust you've done your share of imitating a goldfish – so by now you should not have to ask pointless questions related to your own disbelief. The _Odyssey_ is an _extra-galactic _ship, expect the weird and whacky; and perhaps you will finish your tour on her with your sanity intact."

Cameron Mitchell grinned at the discomfited expressions in the sixteen men and women in front of him. "Now, I'm going to introduce you to a fighter that will have your old NVs for breakfast." He tapped a button on the lectern and the rear wallscreen started to show a series of images, schematics and performance data of the new F302A – which was also relayed to their Pads. "Say hello to the F302A – Code name, Scimitar."

"Max speed in space is rated at point six the speed of light. In atmospheric operations, with Deflectors and Shields engaged you can crank six point eight clicks per second, no sweat. It does this with an Ion Pulse Propulsion engine. Basically, fighter sized versions of what pushes _Odyssey_ around in normal space."

"For FTL, it has a miniaturized Hyperspace Window Generator, operating off an anti-matter fuel cell – allowing the _Scimitar _an effective deployment range of fifty light years from its parent carrier or base with an effective speed of 1516 TSL. That translates to twelve days stuck in your cockpit before you have to turn around."

Cam had to fight a smirk as the pilots in front of him absorbed that. He could see they were practically itching to let out exclamations of disbelief, excitement or amazement. In a way, he couldn't blame them if he put himself in their shoes. The _Scimitar_ fighterwouldmake the fastest Vulcan _Surak_-class Cruiser eat its proverbial space dust. For the Vulcan ship to complete a fifty light year distance it would take forty six days at flank speed of Warp 7 – and that would practically burn out the Warp Drive.

"As mentioned before, the Scimitar is protected by Shields…but please, don't think of them as invulnerable defences; you don't have the power generation of a star ship. You'll survive perhaps three, maybe four direct hits from a Klingon particle or disruptor cannon, after that it's so long sunshine. If a Photon is on your ass though, your on-board computer has Interceptor protocols to use your weapons to take them out. It works in simulations, mostly."

"Your weapons on the other hand will be energy and missile based. You have three independently articulated Triphase cannons to lash out with in all arcs. They won't have the penetration or power that a starship mounting them has, so no thinking you can take on an enemy starship by yourself, that's why you have your fifteen squadron mates. The _Scimitar_ has hardpoints to carry two Photon Torpedoes; which is what will make any enemy commander very nervous when an Earth fighter squadron shows up. There are other missile armaments in development that will give the _Scimitar_ a wide variety of roles as well, but more on that later."

Cam took a drink of water from the glass on the lectern before continuing onto the manoeuvrability stats at various speeds and the various secondary systems which pretty much made the Scimitar the bee's knees at the moment. They would also significantly augment Starfleet's anti-piracy patrols within Earth space.

Cam finally finished the main points of the briefing and looked expectantly at the pilots of 55th Space Operations Squadron. "Any questions?"

A female Lieutenant with the name 'Mills' on her flight suit raised her hand. "Captain, how long will we be in this system?"

"Barring emergencies, we're here to provide security for the mining operations happening on planet we're orbiting. The Particle Miners are scheduled to be operating constantly for the next three months through the Stargate, which gives you and the other three squadrons plenty of time to practice with the _Scimitar_."

"Make no mistake ladies and gentlemen; we're three hundred light years coreward from Earth, this ship is currently the only Hyperspace capable vessel in Starfleet. If we screw up, there is no rescue coming. Even the _Enterprise_ would take a year to get here from her current position at max cruise. Any more questions?"

There were none. "Good, your Pads have been uploaded with your individual assignments. Dismissed."

The squadron stood at attention briefly before filing out. Cam turned back to the lectern to gather his own Pads and deactivated the briefing systems. When he turned back…he had to do a double take…

Sitting in the centre front seat was a smirking man wearing a Starfleet uniform, his posture smug and enthusiastic as he grinned at Cam. He was about to open his mouth to ask what this pilot was doing staying behind…when he noticed the four silver Captain pips on the chest of the dark curly haired man.

"There are no other Captains on this ship that I know of, besides me, and I think I'd have noticed you during the briefing…I've never heard of a silent and non-radiant Transporter, but what the heck do I know? Section 31 doesn't have it so…why the human charade?"

The 'man' chuckled and grinned widely, clapping in applause. "Oh, well done. You are quick. The appearance is just so you can comprehend me."

Cam groaned in resignation. "I guess it was just too much to hope for that I wouldn't have to deal with 'Ascended' beings ever again. So…you're the local equivalent?"

The 'man' smirked with satisfaction. "My dear Captain Mitchell, those navel-gazing fools in your own Universe would need a few decieons to get to my level. They are still capable of being killed by a mortal with enough ingenuity, as your Merlin so ably demonstrated…a pithy little transdimensional energy wave could make me sneeze maybe, but not kill me."

"So I guess you don't have the same Rulebook about interfering with the lower planes?"

The 'man' scoffed. "Why would we chain ourselves like that?"

Cam nodded taking that in. "So what can I call you?"

"I am Q."

"Q?"

"Yes."

Cam considered that for a moment, walking forward to take a seat next to Q. "Mysterious, indefinable. Do you consider yourself a god?"

"Oh no, well, some species I've interacted with have come to do that on their own, but you can relax Captain Mitchell, I gain nothing from it and have no desire for more power…I already have all I can ever want. The Q can do anything; our only limits are those we place on ourselves and we police our own from causing too much chaos, no more than is natural."

Cam nodded. "So why are you here?"

"Oh, just wanted to say hello, and thank you from the bottom of my heart, my dear Captain."

Cam's eyebrows shot up in astonishment. "You, being what you are…want to thank little ol' me?"

Q patted Cam on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "Of course. The six of you have certainly stirred the pot of this Universe, you've made a huge impact already, and it's so much more interesting now than it would've been. Oh, I told the Q Continuum to pay attention to this extra-Universal event, now they're practically falling over to position themselves favourably." Q rubbed his hands in satisfaction. "They always thought I handled my area of the Cosmos with not enough of a firm hand, too much fun and not enough business."

"And now?"

"Well, let's just say my standing is much better."

Cam's reply was as dry as desert sand. "Glad to be of help. It's just too bad it won't be a two way street."

Q winked. "You never know, Captain Mitchell."

A streaking flash of white light engulfed Q and just like that, he was gone.

Later in the day, in the privacy of his quarters, Cam reviewed the internal sensors of _Odyssey_, in the vain hope that they had recorded anything. It was just as he had feared…nothing…a big fat nada. 'Q' might as well have not been there…not even a visual record existed of his conversation with the being. It just showed himself sitting pensively for the entire time in the Briefing room chair.

He supposed it was possible the being had projected the whole conversation into his mind, but the other unsettling possibility was that he had imagined the whole thing and this was his first bout of some sort of psychosis.

Cam was startled when a flash from the computer monitor blinded him. When he recovered his eyesight there was something new on his desk…three somethings to be precise. One was rather large, flat and covered with a tea towel, with an absolutely delicious and hauntingly familiar smell coming from it. He removed the towel and it revealed an apple pie, straight out of the oven, with a pattern and style on it that meant only one thing…it came from his old hometown bakery. Cam's eyes were drawn to the gift card and the small memory stick next to it. He gingerly picked the former up.

'_A little thank you from me._

_I just nipped the pie from back 'home'…_

_The memory device is only for _

_the Odyssey Six._

_You're not crazy, Captain._

_See you round the cosmos,_

_Q._

* * *

**Captain's Ready Room, Enterprise, Interstellar Space**

Jon stared in bafflement at the monitor on his desk; which was currently showing the ever-serious face of Admiral Forrest, who was on the other end of a subspace com line. He made a mental note to have his hearing checked with Phlox after this, because he was sure the Admiral hadn't said what he heard.

"You sure he wants me?"

The Admiral nodded. "_Ambassador Soval said your presence is crucial to resolving the crisis_."

"What's so special about this planet…Paan Mokar?"

"_The Andorians call it Weytahn…it's situated right on the frontier between their systems. Both sides claim it belongs to them. They've nearly gone to war over it twice in past century, and this looks to be unlucky number three_."

Jon looked off to the side of screen. "How do they expect us to settle a conflict they haven't been able to resolve in a hundred years?"

"_Soval says you'll be fully briefed when you arrive. Jonathan, this is the first time the Vulcans have asked for our help. You're the closest thing we have to an ambassador out there. You know how important this could be._"

Jon nodded appreciatively. If he could successfully mediate an end to the shooting going on there…it would most certainly show the Vulcan's that Earth was more than an upstart power emerging onto the galactic scene, but a valuable partner in any endeavour or problem. There was a logical problem that stopped this show from getting on the road. "A course to Vulcan space from our position is over forty light years. It would take a month to travel there at _Enterprise_' highest cruise velocity. We need a lift, Admiral."

Admiral Forrest sported a rare smile and tapped a few buttons out of screen. A subchannel popped up on Jon's monitor and a set of coordinates was displayed. "_Way ahead of you, Jon. _Odyssey _will rendezvous with you here, and then tow you just a light year shy from your ultimate destination_."

"Understood, Admiral. Archer out."

8888888888888888888

**Captain's Mess, Enterprise**

Jon was tucking into his pasta and watched with amusement as Trip stared worriedly at his own glass of water which was sympathetically vibrating with the ship. _Enterprise_ had set yet another speed record for a Starfleet ship; it had reached and was holding at Warp 5.951. Jon was sure Ensign Mayweather was still doing cartwheels on the Bridge from the experience.

The excitement of the accomplishment had quickly waned for Trip, however. "I don't like pushing the engines this hard. The injectors are running at a hundred and ten percent."

T'Pol took a sip from her own water. "They're rated for one hundred and twenty."

Trip looked at her incredulously. "And my underwear is flame-retardant. That doesn't mean I'm going to light myself on fire to prove it."

"I think we'll make it to the rendezvous in one piece, Trip. I've been reading about Paan Mokar in the Vulcan database." He flashed an enquiring eyebrow to his First Officer. "It doesn't say a lot. Class D, not much bigger than Earth's moon, claimed by the Vulcans in 2097."

Trip frowned in confusion. "Class D? That's uninhabitable. Why are you fighting over it?"

Her explanation was succinct. "When the Andorians first arrived a century ago, they began to terraform the planet. Once an atmosphere was developed, they established a settlement."

"If it was unclaimed at the time, why would there be a problem?" Jon asked reasonably.

"Its sole value is its strategic location near Vulcan space."

Jon had enough experience with the hot-blooded Andorians, both at the end of a weapon whilst being held hostage by them at the P'Jem Sanctuary – which uncovered the hidden Vulcan listening post spying on the same Andorians, and then on Coridan where a 'grateful' Andorian Commander Shran had rescued him and T'Pol from a rebel faction – to know what those 'blue-skins' would do next. "They were setting up a military base."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow in agreement. "It was the only logical conclusion."

"Was there any evidence?" Trip enquired curiously.

Her voice almost had an inflection of sarcasm. "How much evidence would you need if the Klingons decided to set up a colony on Pluto?"

"That's not the same thing," Trip protested.

T'Pol continued the little history lesson. "The Andorians refused to let the High Command inspect the colony. So, they annexed Paan Mokar to protect their territory."

Jon felt his suspicions raise and asked knowingly. "What happened to the Andorian colonists?

"They were removed."

Trip narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "By force."

"They left the High Command little choice. A surveillance satellite was put into orbit to monitor the agreement. The planet's been deserted for nearly a century."

"Until now," Jon nodded. "Are we all set for our first Hyperspace journey?"

"I've got the protocols all worked out," Trip's gloomy demeanour seemed to lessen slightly. "The _Odyssey_ will be extending their subspace field around us, and their gravimetric beams will keep us in place."

"Should be fun, even though it'll be very short…how long?"

"According to the math, it'll be less than eight seconds, _Odyssey_ could do forty light years on her own in three…but pulling us along is gonna be a drag."

"I'm going to have to work to get my head around travelling at such velocities when _Enterprise_ eventually gets her refit," Jon mused wryly.

8888888888888888888

**Rendezvous Point, Thirty Nine LY to Paan Mokar **

Jon sat in his chair on the Bridge, eyeing the official time display occasionally; which was mounted near Hoshi's Com Station. It had taken twenty hours to reach this point, and the rendezvous time was eighteen hundred. It was fifteen minutes beyond that.

"Anything?"

"Space is clear on both long and short range scans," T'Pol reported.

"I guess the old saw is true, no matter how fast one can go, you'll always be late for something."

There was a brief audio alert from T'Pol' station. "Hyperspace window event, ten thousand kilometres to port."

"On screen."

The familiar cloud of purple spatial distortion appeared and _Odyssey_ shot itself out of it.

Hoshi tapped her panel. "Captain Mitchell is hailing."

The view of the rapidly closing battlecruiser vanished to be replaced with the familiar visage of _Odyssey_'s Bridge, but the distinctly unfamiliar sight of a crew at it's controls wearing Starfleet jumpsuits, and the half-wry, half-serious expression of _Captain_ Cameron Mitchell in the commander's chair.

"Captain Mitchell!" Jon greeted with a grin.

"_Captain Archer_," Mitchell nodded. "_Sorry we're late…had a slight problem with a pilot who got a little enthusiastic landing his F302. All these NV jockeys have got a way too heavy hand with their controls._"

Jon had to smother a grin. NV jocks were the guys everybody liked to make fun of in Starfleet – only because most were jealous that anybody could qualify to fly in the NV…the standards demanded were high. He could only imagine with the F302As that were even more manoeuvrable, that those standards would not change – heck, it might even become higher.

"_So, shall we got this show on the road, the _Odyssey_ can't afford to be absent from our primary mission for very long._"

"We're prepared in all respects, Captain."

"_Good, hang on to your hats folks, Mitchell out_."

_Odyssey_ turned in a rapid course correction that halted its bulk right over _Enterprise_' saucer section, with barely twenty meters clearance between the two hulls. Jon felt a sudden lurch ripple through the ship.

"Gravimetric beams are locked on." Lieutenant Reed reported. "It's causing a slight resonance in our grav plating."

"Compensating," Trip worked from the Bridge Engineering station. "We're good."

"Put me on shipwide, Hoshi. All hands, prepare for Hyperspace transition."

Jon watched as another spatial distortion formed ahead of both ships now, and it loomed large in the viewscreen, eventually completely filling it and obscuring the stars. There was a sudden lurch as the interial dampeners strained to completely compensate for the acceleration into the Hyperspace window.

_Enterprise_ and her fellow vessel was now surrounded by a twisting and writhing ethereal blue tunnel that seemed to stretch into an infinity; the hyperspace tunnel streamed and pulsed past them hypnotically.

Every eye on the Bridge was locked onto the viewscreen staring at the vista…even T'Pol.

She was the only one to comment. "Fascinating."

And just as quickly, it was over. The tunnel seemed to split and blossom itself open back into the normal space, and the stars were completely different.

"Confirm our position," Jon ordered as _Odyssey_ released her grav beams.

Ensign Mayweather ran a navigational scan. "We're just under light year from the Vulcan border, Captain. We'll get to Paan Mokar within nineteen hours."

"_Happy with your trip, Captain?"_ Mitchell's voice piped into the Bridge again.

Jon couldn't stop the smile of exhilaration on his face. "Very much, thank you."

"_See y'all soon, _Enterprise._ Mitchell out."_

Just like that _Odyssey _vanished into another Hyperspace window, and once again _Enterprise_ was on its own. Jon had a sudden surreal feeling that it hadn't happened at all, but there was no denying the stars around them now.

"Travis, get us to Paan Mokar."

_Enterprise_'s nacelles flashed with continuum distortion and she stretched into Warp. Jon settled back into his chair as he felt he familiar hum of the Warp Engines…if that was what Hyperspace was like…he had a feeling it would never be as satisfying as getting somewhere the 'old-fashioned' way.

* * *

**Orbit of Paan Mokar/Weytahn, Vulcan/Andorian Border**

_Enterprise_ was escorted in orbit by two D'Kyr Class Vulcan combat vessels; both almost triple her length and many times the mass of the Starfleet Exploration cruiser. Paan Mokar revealed itself to be a thoroughly unpleasant looking planet, and it had been clearly much more than it had once been; the conflicts fought on it by the Andorians and Vulcans had seen to that. The atmosphere gave the planet an odd purple hue with masses of clouds moving in a complex weather system. It was good terraforming work on the part of the Andorians and Jon could easily see why they didn't want to give it up.

With all the efforts and resources going into terraforming Mars, Jon would never want anyone to take it away from Humanity.

Jon stood waiting on the opposite side of the main table in _Enterprise_' only designated diplomatic conference room, with Trip at his side angrily mumbling.

"We went through all that trouble to get here, and still they make us wait."

Trip's words were prescient because the main doors hissed open to admit the robed and stern visage of Ambassador Soval, followed by a tall male Vulcan officer.

Jon was as gracious as possible. "Welcome aboard, Ambassador."

"Thank you, Captain. This is Sub-commander Muroc."

Jon nodded to the officer and gestured for Soval to sit. "T'Pol has been filling me in on the situation here, but I still have a lot of questions."

"If you don't mind, Captain, I have a question of my own. Why would an officer of the Andorian Imperial Guard personally request your involvement?"

Jon felt his eyebrows rise at that as he sat down opposite. "I don't understand. I was told you asked for me."

Soval's reply was firm and cold. "I'm involved in extremely difficult and dangerous negotiations. I don't consider your presence here an asset."

Jon's hackles went up, figuratively of course. "If that's how you feel, we'll gladly continue with our mission."

Soval seemed to change track immediately upon registering that threat, and lost some of his cold demeanour, into more of a neutral one. Jon reflected that it was only after more than a year of working with T'Pol that he could spot the subtle signs of 'emotion' in a Vulcan. "Two weeks ago, an Andorian regimental commander named Shran landed a force on Paan Mokar and occupied the settlement."

Jon sighed and sat back, beginning to see the picture. "Shran."

"Naturally, we attempted to enforce the Treaty of 2097."

"Naturally," commented Trip wryly.

Muroc narrowed his eyes slightly at the Engineer. "We've regained control of half the colony, but two dozen Vulcans have been wounded and three have been taken hostage."

Soval raised a single questioning eyebrow at Jon. "Shran has agreed to discuss terms for their safe return, but only if you act as mediator. For some reason, he finds you trustworthy."

"Very well. I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Forgive my candor, but that's hardly reassuring. The last time you dealt with the Andorians, a Vulcan intelligence site was compromised and a priceless monastery destroyed. Sub-commander Muroc will accompany you to represent our interests."

Jon shook his head immediately and replied categorically. "Obviously, I'm here at the request of the Andorians. Shran believes he can trust me. I don't intend to prove him wrong by going down there with a Vulcan officer in tow. If you insist I bring a Vulcan along, I'll take the one I know I can trust."

8888888888888888

**Sickbay, Enterprise**

Jon waited for the door to the circular sickbay to open and strode in with restlessness. Dealing with Vulcans was always sure to send his blood pressure through the roof, and especially when that Vulcan was Ambassador Soval. The Vulcan man had been the bane of the Warp 5 program and one of the reasons why it had taken just under thirty years to get Henry Archer's engine onto a starship. "You wanted to see me, Doc?"

Phlox was thoughtfully studying the Interspecies Medical Exchange (IME) database from Sickbay's main computer; he looked up and nodded amiably. "Yes. This planet is home to a rather pernicious pathogen which humans will be susceptible to. You have to be inoculated before heading down to the surface, in fact I'll need to inoculate the whole crew…since you'll be coming back."

"You're the Doc," Jon sat down on one of the biobeds and watched as Phlox pulled out a tube filled with a white fluid from the DNA resequencer and loaded it into another machine, which did something else to the fluid and automatically separated it into fifty doses which were capable of being loaded into hyposprays.

"This should only take a moment. If I may ask, how did your first meeting with the Vulcans go?"

"Warm and friendly as ever." Jon rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Ironic. They weren't overly enthusiastic about you taking command of _Enterprise_ in the first place, and now your presence is crucial to their interests."

"It's crucial to ours, too." Jon looked thoughtfully at the Doctor, and decided to come clean with some of his recent thoughts. "Perhaps…perhaps we aren't here just to explore, but to build, to push the frontier of civilization forward, to make the stars a safer place for all our descendants, whether they are Human, Vulcan, Denobulan, Andorian…"

"The wish of any parent," Phlox grinned widely as the machine finished its work. He loaded an inoculation into a hypo, before swiftly pressing it against Jon's neck and injected it with a hiss. "All finished. Captain, on a less lofty note and a more immediate one, I served as a medic in the Denobulan infantry. If I learned anything from that experience, it's that battlefields are unpredictable places, even under a flag of truce. Be careful."

* * *

**Shuttlepod One, on descent to Paan Mokar**

Jon sat at the fore pilot seat, leisurely guiding the shuttle into the atmosphere of the contested planet. The moment they hit the thermosphere though he was startled briefly when the navigational sensors were blinded and the com signal back to _Enterprise _was thoroughly scrambled.

"It's the Andorian jamming signal," T'Pol said from the operations station behind him.

"I'm entering the landing co-ordinates they gave us. Let's hope it's accurate."

A brief moment of silence passed as they both worked to land the shuttle with inertial instruments only. "Did you have a chance to read the Territorial Compromise?" T'Pol's voice was almost soft.

"I glanced at it."

"The Compromise is at the heart of this dispute. It's worth your attention."

Jon briefly flashed her an incredulous look. "It's twelve hundred pages long."

"Did you glance at any of the other materials I sent to your quarters? V'Lar's treatise on negotiating tactics is the definitive text on the subject."

"I got all of it. V'Lar's treatise, the Revised Intersystem Agreement, the High Command briefing on the Border Incursions of 2112. I was up till two a.m."

"Glancing," her tone was as dry as the deserts of world she came from.

"Are you trying to tell me something? That maybe I'm not prepared for this?"

"Ambassador Soval clearly believes you'll fail. I was hoping some advance preparation would help you prove him wrong."

"Thanks, but I doubt I'm going to impress Shran by quoting Vulcan treaties."

"I assume you have a strategy?"

"The first thing is to convince Shran that he can trust me."

"And then?"

Jon shrugged. "We're going to have to play it by ear from there; we have no idea of the situation on the ground. So I plan to have a plan."

88888888888888888

The colony was in shambles; bombed out buildings, debris strewn between streets, then there were the ever present distant thumps and energetic whizzing of particle hand weapon fire that echoed into the night. Jon felt naked walking in an environment like this without a Phase pistol, but they weren't combatants. He had even debated with himself on the merits of ordering T'Pol to change into a Starfleet uniform, just so that some Andorian sniper didn't decide she made a nice target. She wouldn't go for it though, nor would Soval. She was a member of the High Command first on this mission, since she was 'technically' representing the interests of the Vulcan people.

In the end he contended himself with the hope that Shran kept his troops properly informed.

Thankfully, they were. He and T'Pol were promptly surrounded by eight Andorians in combat gear, their particle rifles bristling in their direction and the antennas on their heads were fluttering in every direction. The leader of the group was the first Andorian female Jon had ever seen, and she was half a head taller than he was, a strong build that would make a fair fight with her not something he would relish.

Jon held up his free hands "We're not armed. I'm Captain Jonathan Archer. I'm here to see Commander Shran."

The female Andorian glared phase bolts. "He's expecting you, without a Vulcan escort."

"I wasn't told to come alone. This is my Science Officer. She helped expose the Vulcan listening post at P'Jem. I thought Shran might enjoy seeing her again."

That was the last view Jon had of the colony as with some unseen signal, the Andorians put a cloth bag over his head from behind, the world turned black, and he was frog marched for what felt like just under a kilometre. Doors were slamming open and shut ahead and behind them, until the Andorian handling him pushed him down into a seat and ripped the bag off.

Jon blinked to adjust his eyes and regard what had to be a forward field command post. There was com gear, pads, dusty map tables, stacked weapons in slots, what looked like a portable power source that was feeding power into particle weapons that needed recharging, and large table where a bunch of Andorian soldiers were tucking into a meal. He took this all in with a single glance and saw that T'Pol was alright and sitting in another chair next to him.

His eyes then turned to the very familiar stocky Andorian wearing a suitably adorned combat bodysuit standing not a few feet from him and Jon flashed a wry smile.

"I imagined my first diplomatic mission would involve sitting around a big table, toasting with champagne, signing things with lots of pens."

"The pinkskin sense of humor," Shran smirked. "My apologies for the security precautions."

"We can never be too vigilant when it comes to Vulcans," the female officer explained ominously.

"They say the same thing about you," Jon retorted.

"I'm sure they do. We're aggressive, illogical." Shran glared at T'Pol as he said the last one.

"Prove them wrong."

"That's why you're here, Captain. To help us do just that. I've dealt with the Vulcans twice before, where you were involved. Both times you handled the situation without prejudice."

Jon nodded. "I hope I can help again, but the first thing I need is to see the hostages."

The female officer scoffed. "Hostages? Criminals take hostages. Kidnappers looking for a ransom take hostages. I assume you're referring to the enemy soldiers we captured."

"The Vulcans want to know they're all right." Jon insisted.

Shran frowned but his voice held a trace of reassurance. "They haven't been harmed."

And true to his statement he escorted them to a room a corridor away from the command post and opened a scorched metal door to reveal three rather dirty, and weary looking Vulcans in combat uniforms. Two of them were asleep, whilst the third only looked up with a curious glint in his eyes at the sight of a human.

"Are you all right?"

Any potential answer was interrupted by the female Andorian as she slammed the door closed and bolted it shut. "When they attacked my patrol, two of my men were badly wounded. They're lucky we didn't kill them."

T'Pol's voice actually held anger. "You provoked this situation when you violated the Territorial Compromise."

The officer sneered. "Only a Vulcan could call a hundred years of oppression a compromise. You annexed a planet that belongs to us, herded our people into refugee camps."

"After you set up a military outpost here."

"As you can see, Captain, even after a hundred years, this situation still evokes anger on both sides." Shran led them back into the command post and then got down to business. "We will release our prisoners on the following conditions. Immediate withdrawal of all Vulcan military forces, the so-called compromise is to be rescinded, and the Vulcans must concede irrevocable sovereignty of Weytahn to Andoria."

Jon shook his head incredulously. "You don't expect them to agree to all that."

"I told you. He's a puppet of the Vulcans."

Jon scowled and got right into the female officer's face. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Tarah," she scowled right back, her antenna pointing in his direction.

"Well, _Lieutenant_ Tarah, the Vulcan High Command doesn't like me very much, and, frankly, the feeling is mutual." Jon backed up and turned to face Shran, making sure to keep Tarah in his line of sight. "If all you need is someone to deliver your list of demands, find somebody else. I've got _other_ things to do."

"The Vulcans always say they're ready to talk, but it amounts to _nothing_. Treaty negotiations that drag on for years." Shran scoffed. "I want to speak to _Soval_. Somebody who can deal with the situation without having to check with his superiors."

Jon calmed down quickly at Shran's frankness and nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Shran pointed a gloved finger down to the ground. "Here! On my terms."

"That might be a little difficult."

Tarah shook her head. "This is pointless."

"But not impossible," Jon temporized. "The thing is he's going to want something in return."

"Haven't they already taken enough?" Shran's voice boomed through the bunker.

"I'm talking about a gesture, something to show you're serious. I came down here to see about the prisoners. Why don't you let…two of them go? Keep the other one until after you've met with Soval."

"One," countered Shran, his hostile posture relenting, "as a show of our good faith."

* * *

**Conference Room, Enterprise**

"Unacceptable."

Jon felt his anger soar. "You got one of your men back."

"And in exchange, you'll deliver me into their hands? I'm sure the Andorians were impressed with your negotiating skills." Jon could've sworn that was…veiled sarcasm in Soval's voice. _Son of a…_

"They want to talk to you, not kidnap you."

"If I agree to a meeting, it's simply legitimises their position."

Jon glared at hearing that. How could Soval truly think that the Andorians didn't have a legitimate position? They did, as surely as the Vulcans thought their position was legitimate. "And if you don't, these negotiations end before they begin."

"That may happen sooner than you realise." Muroc cautioned. "While you were on the surface, we detected three Andorian vessels approaching. They'll be here in less than five hours."

"They probably intend to re-supply their troops on the surface. We won't allow that." Soval's tone was distinctly final.

"Engaging an Andorian vessel could be construed as an act of war." T'Pol's sharply arched eyebrow belied the soft way she had spoken.

"That will be their decision."

Jon glared at Soval's figurative washing his hands of his own side's actions. "_Both_ sides are responsible for what happens here."

"You don't understand the complexities of this situation."

Jon was now severely tempted to throw the little diplomatic candour he had left out the airlock. "With all due respect, _Ambassador_, why did you agree to let me go down there if you won't listen to my advice?"

"I didn't request your help, Captain, and I don't feel obliged to accept it."

The hypocrisy was galling. "You claim the Andorians are inflexible. At least they're willing to sit down and talk. The next move is yours, Ambassador."

* * *

**Shuttlepod One**

Jon, again at the controls, was very tempted to pinch himself to make sure he was still awake. He had actually successfully manoeuvred Ambassador Soval to do something. Guess that Vulcan's still had pride buried deep within them somewhere, because there was no way that Soval could just sit back and let the Andorians take the moral high ground.

"They'll send some soldiers to meet us. I'm afraid they'll want to blindfold you. It's just a security precaution."

"Thank you for the reassurance. Now if you don't mind, I'll need a few moments of silence to prepare myself." Soval sat back in his seat, closed his eyes and seemed to be doing a quick meditation.

"Of course." Jon turned back only to be almost jostled out of the pilot's seat when the inertial dampers were overwhelmed by something, as if a massive fist had struck the shuttle. "T'Pol?!"

"Weapons fire. I can't pinpoint the source."

Jon saw a few aquamarine particle beams flash in the sky past them before another successfully hit, sending them near tumbling. He worked furiously at the controls to stabilize and keep on course.

Soval leaned forward rigidly. "I suggest we cancel the negotiations and return to your ship."

"For once we're in full agreement." Jon tried to pull up but he couldn't get the shuttle to cooperate. Then they were hit again, and a dull whine resounded throughout the small cabin.

"Direct hit to our starboard engine. Main power is offline." T'Pol reported from her station, as the shuttle startled to rattle rather badly.

"Now you see who you're dealing with, Captain?" Soval archly pointed out.

"We're losing altitude. Two hundred metres."

"I'm going to bring us in on thrusters."

"One hundred metres…Fifty…we need to reduce our speed."

"The ground is going to do that for us. Brace yourselves."

8888888888888888

The old saying was that any landing you can walk away from was a good landing. In that respect he had performed a miracle. But once you factored in the condition of the shuttlepod – Trip was going to be spending quite a few days getting it spaceworthy again. He held a hand scanner against the ugly scar on the hull and it confirmed what he suspected.

He pocketed it and unholstered his phase pistol. "Any idea where we are?"

Soval looked around to orientate himself. "The southeast quadrant, near the old spaceport. I told you I negotiated the last accord. I also served here."

"You were with the occupation force?" T'Pol enquired neutrally, although Jon could see the surprise.

"As an intelligence officer, a long time ago." Soval pointed. "Our current deployment has a base of operations that way, about two and a half kilometres."

Jon shook his head. "I appreciate your help, Ambassador but we're looking for the Andorians."

"Circumstances have altered our plans," Soval tried to point out logically.

"I gave my word to Shran. I intend to keep it."

"Shran just tried to kill us."

"We don't know that."

"I suppose you think our troops are responsible for this?" Whatever the Vulcan's preached about repressing emotions, it was clear that Soval had indeed been on Earth too long, his dead-pan delivery made it seem that he was being sarcastic.

"Sensors and communications are offline. There's weapons fire flying all over the place. We don't know what happened."

"Are you that naive? Shran is using you."

"This is a man who couldn't sleep because he thought he owed me something," Jon retorted hotly. "And right now it seems like the best thing to do is to get a cease-fire in place. The Andorians won't agree to that until they talk to you in person. I managed to keep us on course most of the way in. We can't be more than a kilometre from Shran's landing co-ordinates."

Jon turned away and headed off with T'Pol; sure that Soval wouldn't be stupid enough not to follow – not in the middle of a bombed out battlefield.

8888888888888888888

**Enterprise – In Orbit of Paan Mokar**

Trip sat in the Captain's chair and frowned at the viewer which showed the visage of Sub-Commander Muroc on the pristine Bridge of the Vulcan combat cruiser flanking _Enterprise_ on a parallel orbit. Inwardly he was also kicking himself.

"How would you know? We can't pick up anything through the jamming interference."

"_Our scanners are more sophisticated than yours. We detected weapons fire coming from the surface. Then your shuttle appeared to make an emergency landing somewhere in the colony_."

And there was the crux of why he was angry with himself. He had put off upgrading _Enterprise'_ various sensor arrays to Odyssey specs until he had a better grasp of the principles behind them – now his 'scientific' approach was likely to cost his Captain dearly. He knew those sensors could catalogue every molecule of matter remotely even in the middle of a supernova event if they really had to, let alone through some pithy artificially produced subspace jamming signal. He made a mental note to install them first and then study them later…after they got out of this mess.

"Where?"

"_We haven't been able to pinpoint their landing site, but our units on the ground are already searching. The High Command instructed me to take steps to recover Ambassador Soval."_

Lieutenant Reed crossed his arms and pointedly asked, "And our officers?"

"_Of course."_

"We want to be involved in any rescue operation." Trip would be damned if he was going to let Vulcans do this alone.

"_We have more experience in these matters_." Muroc's 'no' was rather politely veiled.

"I've seen you Vulcan's idea of a tactical rescue. One of your commando units blasted the hell out of a rebel compound on Coridan, when we were all ready to escape quietly. Not exactly my idea of a surgical operation," Trip criticized.

"_Your opinion of our tactics aside, we won't allow this provocation to continue."_

"You don't even know where they are. Do you really think it's a good idea to go down there guns blazing?"

"_Our response will be appropriate. I'll keep you informed."_

Muroc terminated the link and the viewscreen returned to the orbital view of Paan Mokar.

Trip turned to Hoshi with a hopeful look. "Any luck?"

"I'm trying, sir, but if the Vulcans can't find them," she shrugged her shoulders.

"See what you can do."

"Yes, sir."

"How far away are those Andorian ships?"

Travis checked his long range sensor feed. "Three hours at their present speed,"

Trip stood and began pacing. Three hours, that's how long the Captain had to resolve this powder keg. He had to do all that he could to buy more time, and unfortunately the only way he could think of doing that was decidedly not conducive to _Enterprise_' hull integrity.

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**Colony Ruins, Paan Mokar**

It was a frustrating trek. Their pace was slow due to debris blocking streets, having to double back around to find another route, then if that wasn't bad enough they also had to move very cautiously and advance in jumps between cover from any potential sniper nests. One thing became very clear though, as much as he had tried to keep the shuttle on course during its crash landing, their weaving through the colony had disoriented his sense of direction very thoroughly.

"Perhaps you were farther off course than you thought." Soval was as helpful as ever.

"You've been here before. I don't suppose you'd care to help?"

"It's been almost a hundred years."

Jon rolled his eyes and gave the Ambassador a pointed look. "I thought Vulcans had exceptional memories."

Soval seemed to puff up a little before mastering himself and scanning the area thoughtfully. "This is the old residential quarter. According to our latest intelligence, the Andorians control the settlement west of here."

"If we keep moving this way, we should be…"

Stray particle weapon fire lanced in from the north, and it forced them to duck behind the closest cover; a large slab of blasted apart duracrete.

"Not quite the warm welcome you expected, Captain?"

"They're not shooting at us," Jon snapped over the snarl of weapons fire.

"The Vulcan units must be advancing their positions," T'Pol deduced.

"We should try to make contact with them," was the Ambassador's predictable response.

"I don't recommend sticking your neck out right now." Jon pointed out sarcastically.

"What do you recommend? Wandering through these ruins until we find an Andorian soldier, and trust he's been informed not to shoot us on sight?"

"I'll scout ahead. Stay here."

"Captain," T'Pol objected.

"That's an order. No offence, but my ears are less likely to draw fire than yours."

Jon broke cover, keeping low to the ground. He steadily moved towards a building that looked intact and high enough to provide a general lay of the land.

"My kingdom for an EM53," Jon grumbled as he moved through the building, clearing each room as he went – he had no illusions that his amateurish attempts could touch a MACO squad's expertise. Not to mention their EM53 pulse rifles were perfect in such a situation – especially the 'Corner-shoot' version.

Thankfully, there proved to be no snipers or other surprises in the building he had chosen, and he carefully nudged just the edge of his eye to glance over the rather awe inspiring battlefield. Thanks to clear visual difference between the two battling side's particle weapons, green for the Vulcans, and aquamarine for the Andorians, he got a good look at their positions.

Occasionally he would also see the brief stint of movement between the debris strewn battlefield, as both sides tried to gain a positional advantage. The Vulcans would fire their weapons to keep the Andorians behind cover, while trying to advance– but their weapons would overheat at that rate or run out of charge. Then the Andorians would counter-attack and the Vulcans were forced to yield ground. Only occasionally would a particle beam find its mark; when either an Andorian or Vulcan was just that little bit too slow in getting back behind cover. In the brief time he watched he saw no use of grenades, be they explosive or stun…which was what a MACO squad would use in such situations.

Another little detail he noted was that both sides seemed to be wearing vision enhancement systems. He would have to ask T'Pol about that when he got back to the ship.

The journey back to the two Vulcans he had arrived with was much shorter, but he didn't rest on his laurels assuming that the way was all clear.

"Did you make contact?" T'Pol queried.

"No, the Andorians are a little busy at the moment. Let's keep moving."

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**Enterprise**

Hoshi's muted exclamation of victory drew everyone's attention. "Commander."

Trip practically vaulted from the Captain's chair, to stand next to her, looking at her sensor feed. "You have something?"

"I can't be sure. You see this EM signature I've differentiated here?" she tapped the waterfall style EM graphic readout showing a pronounced spike.

"That's the Captain?"

"It's definitely a biosign. I'm ninety percent sure it's human."

"At least we know he's alive. Where is he?"

"I need more time to localize it through all this interference."

Trip nodded and walked back to the Captain's chair. "What's the status on those Andorian ships?"

"They just dropped out of warp. They'll be here in thirteen minutes."

"The Vulcans see them, too." Lieutenant Reed reported, looking up from his tactical sensors. "They're breaking orbit. Probably giving themselves room to manoeuvre."

Trip gritted his teeth in frustration. "Battle Stations."

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**West Residential District, Paan Mokar**

They were again behind cover. Only this time distinctly worse off, Ambassador Soval had been hit in the shoulder; thankfully the particle weapon had seared the wound closed, otherwise he would be soaked with green blood. In addition, it seemed the weapons fire was gunning directly for them – this wasn't a few stray shots.

"Those are Andorian weapons," T'Pol gripped her phase pistol tightly to the point where Jon worried the thing was going to crack under that strain. She was also examining the wounded Ambassador; who was rocking in pain from the hit, but was otherwise absolutely silent.

"How is he?"

"It isn't life-threatening but he needs medical attention."

Jon nodded and then bellowed into the night whilst quickly popping up to get a view and ducking again. "We've brought the Vulcan ambassador to meet with Commander Shran!" It produced no halt in the weapons fire; in fact, it only served to increase the volume striking their cover. "It looks like two of them. One on top of that structure." He popped up and fired – the orange beam surprising the Andorian enough that he fell back behind cover frantically. "and the other on the ground." This was punctuated with another beam.

T'Pol had skirted her head above their cover and nodded. Jon grimaced but he saw no other option, his first officer couldn't produce enough covering fire for his plan to work, and offered his own pistol, grip first, to Soval, who seemed coherent enough now to function somewhat.

Soval accepted it. "What do you expect me to do with this?"

"Make sure they don't see me."

"I haven't fired a weapon in fifty years."

"You don't have to hit anything, just keep them occupied. _Really _occupied or I'm not going to get very far."

Soval and T'Pol laid down fire as he crawled and scuttled from cover to cover until he was behind the uppermost sniper, and then climbed a convenient ladder. He was a very bad or unprepared sniper – he had no spotter and was so fixated on his target that he had no situational awareness. Jon had no trouble sneaking up on the Andorian with the volume of weapons fire drowning out his steps.

"Hey." The male Andorian was startled at the sound, and gave Jon a perfect angle to dish out an elbow strike to his midsection. It knocked the wind out of the Andorians' lungs and Jon ripped his particle rifle from the powerless grip and knocked the soldier out with it.

There was one sniper left which continued to trade fire with T'Pol's position. He shouldered the Andorian weapon and headed out.

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**Enterprise**

"Range?"

"Fifty thousand kilometres. They're still heading right for the Vulcan ships."

This was Trip's first look at an Andorian combat vessel. It was a single hull design, three hundred and sixty meters long and from above looked like an aerofighter in general shape, its fore section had a wider 'head' that tapered to a central hull and continued to its two nacelles which were integrated into the aft section of the ship, one mounted on top of the other, whilst the glowing red impulse emitters were on either side. The 'wings' were finished off with what looked like two hardened fuel pods and mounted on top close to the body were hull pods that probably held the main weapon arrays.

It was a distinctly redundant modular military design, Trip would bet anything that those hull pods could detach and be replaced with other pods containing more mission specific systems.

Alarms blared from Lt Reed's station. "The Vulcans are charging weapons. The Andorians as well."

Trip nodded staring at his own feeds. "Travis, lay in a new course. I want you to put us right between them. Maximum power to shields, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir."

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you have in mind?" Reed questioned dryly after he had obeyed the orders.

* * *

**West Residential District, Paan Mokar**

For the second sniper Jon was forced to use a decidedly unconventional approach. There were no easy approaches in which he would not be noticed, so he improvised and crawled in a blasted hole on the side of the building, which gave him access to the floor underneath the sniper. Leopard crawling forward his luck continued to hold when he found an open section of floor not five meters away from the sniper's position. He carefully got his feet under him and slowly emerged, the Andorian weapon tucked into his shoulder and aiming for the back of the sniper…he blinked as he realized that it was a very familiar female…Lt Tarah.

"Drop your weapon." Jon ordered flatly. Tarah froze and stopped firing, she turned slowly around to see that she had no hope to bring her weapon around before he could shoot. "I've never fired one of these before. I'm not sure if it's set on stun. T'Pol, cease fire!"

"It doesn't have a stun setting," Tarah sneered before dropping her weapon off the ledge.

"You fired on my shuttle. You're trying to kill Soval, undermine everything that Shran is trying to do here. Why? Do you want a war with the Vulcans?"

"All we want is a chance to fight for what's ours before cowards like Shran negotiate it away."

"You can take that up with him. T'Pol, secure her."

She and Soval had advanced and held the Andorian under their aim, which allowed Jon to climb fully out of the hole he had emerged from. They had barely moved away from the building when they were surrounded again, thankfully Shran was among them, but his thunderous expression did not bode well.

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In orbit _Enterprise_ held position in a two hundred kilometre no-man's land between the three Andorian ships and the two Vulcan ones; both sides had been forced to hold their fire thanks to the Starfleet vessel's presence within their firing solutions.

Hoshi's panel beeped twice as they received hails. "We're being hailed by the Vulcans and the Andorians."

"Put 'em both on." Trip ordered. Muroc appeared on the left half of the viewscreen and a male Andorian Captain on the right. Trip made his voice purposefully flippant. "This is Commander Tucker."

The Andorian nodded in greeting. "_Captain Telev of the Imperial Guard_."

"_Commander, I strongly recommend you withdraw to a safe distance_." Muroc insisted.

"_I agree. We wouldn't want your vessel to be damaged by debris from the Vulcan ships._"

"_We will not allow the Andorians to land additional troops on Paan Mokar_."

This angered Telev. "_It's called Weytahn! Our personnel there have been attacked. We'll provide whatever support they need_."

"_Any vessel attempting to enter orbit will be fired upon_." Muroc declared flatly.

"That includes yours, Sub-commander." Trip was amazed his voice was as calm as it sounded; because his heart was hammering. This had the potential to turn into a 'Class A Charlie Foxtrot' as his grandfather used to say.

"_We appreciate your support, Commander Tucker_." Telev grinned with smugness, which Trip was happy to wipe off.

"Don't. I'll open fire on any ship that makes an aggressive move. TPCs, torpedoes?"

Reed looked up and smirked. "Locked on both sides and ready."

"_This is not a Starfleet matter_." Muroc objected.

"As long as my Captain is stuck in the middle of your war zone, it is."

"_The Andorians have made it impossible for us to recover Captain Archer. By now, he's most likely a casualty_."

"Don't count him out so fast. We've managed to isolate his bio-signature. Now, why don't you both give him and Ambassador Soval a chance to do their jobs before we start a war up here?"

* * *

**West Residential District, Paan Mokar**

Tarah was quick in trying to spin a story. "They were taking me away to kill me, Commander. Apparently, these pinkskins aren't as honourable as you thought."

"I suppose I shot the Ambassador to make my story more convincing?" Jon pointed out the obvious flaw in that attempt.

"Why would my lieutenant, a loyal member of the Imperial Guard, lie to me?" Shran questioned stubbornly, but Jon could see in his eyes it was more for show and giving the benefit of the doubt.

Soval spoke up valiantly through his pain. "Commander, it seems you're willing to resolve this situation through peaceful means. Do all your officers feel the same?"

"Have you considered there might be Andorians who would want a war with Vulcan?" T'Pol asked.

"How long have I served with you? Followed your orders when it could have meant my life?" Tarah reasoned in turn.

"She's not the only one who risked their life. I said I'd bring Soval to meet you and we damn near got killed getting him here. I came because you asked me. Because you thought I could be trusted. Check Soval's wound. Check our shuttle. You'll find Andorian weapons signatures."

Shran whipped out a scanner and hovered it over Soval's wound, then promptly whirled on Tarah with anger. "Is this true? Answer me!"

Tarah was now held by two other Andorians. "What did you expect me to do?"

"Follow my orders!"

"Orders to do nothing while you betray us? It's not too late to redeem yourself, to make a stand."

"I intend to. Take her." She was led away, hands being bound.

"There are others who feel this way. You'll see!"

"See to the Ambassador's wounds. We have a lot to discuss." Shran looked meaningfully at Soval.

* * *

**Enterprise**

"The Vulcan ships are breaking formation. They're heading for the planet. The Andorians are following, sir." Reed fingers were poised tensely on the firing controls.

"See if you can target their weapons." Trip sighed grimly.

Hoshi's panel blared an incoming hail warning. "We're being hailed from the surface. It's the Captain!"

"Hold off, Malcolm. Put him through. Captain?"

"_Nice to hear your voice, Trip_."

"What's going on down there? Are you okay?"

"_T'Pol and I are fine. We're at the Andorian command post. Ambassador Soval's been injured, but Shran's medics are treating him_."

"Did you say Shran's medics?" Trip shook his head incredulously.

"_He's just being a good host. The Andorians are allowing the Vulcan ships to move in and pick up their people_."

"Glad you let us know." Trip practically deflated in the Captain's chair as the tension fled his body.

"_Did you run into any problems up there_?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle. I'll fill you in later."

"_We had a pretty rough landing. We'll need a ride back to the ship. The Andorians will be tractoring Pod One back to us_."

"I'll send Travis down in Shuttlepod Two."

"_Acknowledged. Archer out_."

"Put us back into orbit, Travis, stand down from Battle Stations."

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_Captain's Starlog, supplemental. Ambassador Soval has begun talks with the Andorians. They've been difficult, but productive._

**Conference Room, Enterprise **

"The Imperial Council will not be satisfied until Vulcan recognises our claim to Weytahn." Shran declared.

Jon sitting at the mediator position at the head of the table between Shran and Soval folded his hands formally. "I believe someone once defined a compromise as a solution that neither side is happy with."

Shran snorted. "In that case, these talks have been extremely successful."

"I consider any negotiation that averts war to be a success." Soval raised an eyebrow at the Andorian.

Shran stood abruptly and uncorked a purple bottle of Andorian ale he had brought with him. "Join me in a drink to celebrate our mutual dissatisfaction." He poured the blue liquid into three small glasses.

"Vulcans don't drink. But this occasion merits an exception."

Jon stood in unison with Soval and all three men raised their glasses.

"To the cease-fire. It wouldn't have been possible without the help of our human friends."

"And to the successful continuation of these talks on Andoria."

They gulped the strong beverage down. "I trust there'll be more accomplished than just talk."

"With your permission, I'll escort Ambassador Soval to the airlock." T'Pol requested.

"Of course." Jon nodded at her with a satisfied smile.

"Captain, your presence here has not been overly meddlesome." Soval stated neutrally and promptly left with T'Pol.

Shran narrowed his eyes at the closing door before glancing at Jon. "I think he likes you, pinkskin."

"I wouldn't go that far." Jon shook his head.

Shran laughed gaily. "I must say, that I actually feel somewhat impressed. Your ship has come a long way, Captain. In more ways than one. So I guess Imperial intelligence was correct for once."

"Why Shran," Jon said innocently, "whatever are you talking about?"

"We know about Hyperspace, pinkskin."

"I'm not surprised," Jon refilled Shran's glass, "we shared it with the Vulcans, and your entire Intelligence division is probably focused on them. So has Andoria gotten the schematics yet?"

Shran was surprised at the bold question. "Why would you think I would answer that, Captain?"

"Open diplomatic and trade relations with Earth, and with time, I can see us selling that technology to you, and we'll send along specialists to help integrate it into your ships…Hyperdrives are not things to be blundered around in experimentation with, Shran. You're pushing your ship deep into a specific subspace domain, done incorrectly you'll shred any vessel and its occupants into microfragments."

"I'll convey that to my people," the Andorian nodded. "And personally I can see the value in having you as an ally to Andoria. The Imperial Council…well, they are another matter. They find your alliance to the Vulcan's…distasteful."

"I see no reason why Earth can't be friends to both."

"We'll see, Archer….we'll see."

* * *

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Consider the 'Stigma' plot axed from my story. I never liked how it turned T'Pol even more into an 'outcast-archetype'. P'Nar syndrome is out as well. She already has it bad enough with the Vulcan High Command after the P'Jem Monastery saga. _

_Travel time depictions in ST:Enterprise frustrated me greatly, and I've retconned it for my story. Yeah, I get that it was done for 'excitement' and to fit episodic format in the TV show, but this was 114 years before ST:TOS, Warp speeds were still in the Cochrane Scale and even the Vulcans topped out at Warp 7. It would be about 200 years before warp speeds got to Warp 9.9xxxx to allow for the travel times seen in ST TNG, VOY, DS9._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**October 23, 2152;**** UES **_**Enterprise**_**, 45 LY Galactic SW from Earth**

It was barely a month since they had departed Vulcan space for the great unknown on a new exploration vector. It paralleled their original course they had travelled on for a year before the recall to Paan Mokar, but it was nevertheless a new direction on the compass. It had already paid dividends so to speak.

Jon stared at the viewscreen with a puzzled gaze, as it showed a sloping cigar-shaped object drifting leisurely against the backdrop of the endless starfield. It had a dark grey hull with odd geometric contours, which made it a bit tricky to pick out against the void of space with the naked eye. Its size was barely larger than a shuttlepod and he could see no nacelles, thrusters or anything that looked like a propulsion system exhaust or emitter on the exterior. _Was it an escape pod?_

"Biosigns?"

T'Pol looked up from her Sensor Scope. "None that I can detect, but its hull seems to be scattering our sensors."

"Trip finished the upgrades to Odyssey spec on those last week, that shouldn't be happening."

"Nevertheless, whichever species this belongs to, it still outclasses _Enterprise_' detection capabilities. The only reason we're even seeing it is because the 'object' has hull damage, which is compromising its stealth."

Lt Reed finished his own sensor analysis. "I'm not reading any weapons signatures on those hull rents. Possibly some sort of accident."

Jon stared thoughtfully at the 'object' for a while. "Bring it into Launch bay two."

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**Launch Bay 2**

With the 'object' in literal arms reach the puzzle deepened even further. Jon let Malcolm and T'Pol do their jobs even though he felt very tempted to get a scanner in hand to try and make sense of the thing.

Malcolm finished walking a circle around the 'ship', with his scanner waving up and down. "There's no windows. I'm not sure whether this end's the bow or the stern." Jon saw what the Armoury Officer meant. One end was flat, whilst the other tapered slightly into two large prongs, both sides could be the 'front' or heck the thing could fly upright and they were looking at the dorsal or ventral sides.

"Captain. This might be a hatch." T'Pol had stopped her own examination on a section on the side of the ship, which looked to have a rectangular surface area.

Malcolm came over and inspected it for himself. "If it is, it's been fused shut. With your permission, sir?"

Jon nodded and the Lieutenant walked over to a sealed weapons locker and pulled out a Phase pistol, which with a few taps on its controls was set to a tight beam intensity that could be used to cut through pretty much any material known to Earth science. It was very slow going, and the pistol ran itself dry of charge cutting though the fused sections along the seam of the hatch. If that's how much it took to cut mere slivers of fused fragments of whatever alloy the ship was made of, Jon imagined that a full armour plate of the stuff could shrug off any known particle or disruptor weapon currently in existence.

With a bit of elbow strength he and Malcolm pushed along what seemed to be the seam of the hatch and it grinded open with rough metallic shrieks. Abruptly smoke poured out from inside finding its way into his lungs.

He backed off abruptly whilst coughing and gave T'Pol a worried look. She moved her own Vulcan scanner forward and took some readings. "It's only smoke, no volatile gasses or detectable pathogens."

When his throat was clear he grabbed a torch and carefully climbed into the now clear interior of the mystery ship. Its interior looks matched the outer hull, and he had to crouch slightly to fit within it. It was only when he directed the torch to the other end, that it's beam fell on a chair mounted facing the 'pronged' side of the ship. There were no status displays, viewscreens or anything that looked like an interface, only a scorched ergonomic chair of sorts.

"Hmmm, no one's home."

T'Pol shut down her scanner. "The energy discharge markings are extensive, Captain. It's plausible that whoever occupied that chair has been vaporized completely."

"Possibly," Jon conceded and ducked out of the craft. "I want a full investigation done on this thing; determine which species it belongs to, perhaps we could return it to them."

"Aye, Captain."

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A fascinated Malcolm Reed was hovering his Scanner back and forth along the outer hull of the unknown craft. So far it was proving to be a rather interesting and perplexing mystery. "The hull seems to completely absorb EM and subspace radiation. Without all this damage, it never would have shown up on our sensors."

Trip put down his own Engineering Scanner and stared attentively at the thing. "Some kind of stealth ship. This can't be an escape pod. I can't find any plasma exhaust ports. Not even anything remotely like a thruster."

"There's nothing here that looks like a power source either," Malcolm declared in frustration.

"How did this thing make it into deep space without an engine?" The frustrating thing was that there was no answer for this question, indeed there wasn't even a clue.

The two men moved on to the inside of the craft and began a systematic examination. Here they achieved slightly more luck, finding the first actual seams in the construction of the craft, right in the middle of the floor. It took a bit of work with clamps to get purchase on what seemed to be a panel, and it was surprisingly light for a panel that looked quite thick and dense. Underneath it revealed something that looked round with four viscous and organic looking…cables? that radiated outward and was leaking bluish fluid.

"Registers as some kind of bio-matter," Malcolm shook his head in frustration. The Scanner showed him the molecular shape of what he was looking at, but '_bio-source unknown_' and '_function unknown_' kept flashing next to it.

Trip frowned at the stuff, looking at the direction and orientation of the bio-matter. "Organic circuitry?"

Malcolm nodded that the theory seemed plausible. "Maybe we should get Phlox to come down and take a look."

They carefully removed the bio-circuitry device with clamps, being careful not to get the bluish fluid on them. Beneath it was the first familiar bit of anything they'd found in the craft, besides the chair…a hatch. It had four handles in four slots, which could turn as an apparent release mechanism. When the hatch was unlocked and lifted away, Trip had to blink and rub his eyes at the impossibility of what he was seeing. He had expected to see the decking of the Launch Bay...

"Malcolm?"

"I see it," the Armoury Officer's incredulity was apparent in his voice. They were shining their torches down a shaft that shouldn't have been there, that extended down for what had to be more than five meters.

"Good. Means I'm not hallucinating. How can a ship be bigger on the inside than the outside?"

Malcolm fumbled for the first simple explanation he could find. "It could be a hologram."

While a good attempt, it made little sense…why would anyone want to make a hologram that fooled you into thinking a ship was bigger than it should be. "Hand me that hyperspanner."

Trip took the tool from Malcolm and suspended it over the 'shaft', and let go. The spanner fell 'down' as it should have, and didn't smash into a holographically disguised wall, it vanished into the darkness of the shaft and they only heard a 'clang' of metal on metal after two seconds. That did it. It was real.

Trip hauled himself properly into position and extended his legs down into the shaft, to the rungs of the ladder integrated into it. Malcolm protested immediately.

"You're not going down there?"

"Got to get my spanner back," Trip smirked as he climbed deeper into the shaft, his body now entirely in space that shouldn't be there.

"We should call the Bridge first. Let them know."

Trip pretended not to hear him and continued down. "Say again, Malcolm?"

Malcolm sighed with reluctance and followed, he'd be damned if he was going to let his superior officer go into such strange 'unknown territory' alone. Climbing down the somewhat narrow shaft, that turned out to be actually about five meters in height before bottoming out was giving him chills up and down his spine.

They emerged into a darkened chamber that was bigger than the pod itself. Their flashlights fell onto more of the dark brown alloy that made up the interior of the craft. It was also immediately evident that this area had suffered a lot more damage; there was extensive scarring and scorching. Again, there was nothing recognizable as a control panel, or any writing, just more of the weird patterning of the walls.

Malcolm's voice was awed. "This gives space exploration a whole new meaning."

"I've read a few papers on spatial geometry. I never heard a theory that would explain this. The Captain'll never believe us. He's going to have to see this for himself." Their lights finally found something, a dome pedestal of some sort integrated with the floor. From the ceiling above another identical one came down, leaving a two foot long gap between the two. One had clearly suffered bad damage, and the thick alloy had been torn from the inside to leave a gap slightly bigger than a golf ball. "What do you think a reactor of some kind?"

"You're the engineer."

"Looks like a breach, overload of some kind."

Malcolm's scanner gave a beep to alert him it had detected something passively. He tapped on it, and frowned with frustration. '_Energy waveform unknown'_ it spat back at him. "I'm picking up an energy signature. It's very faint."

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**Bridge**

"Captain, a vessel has just been detected by long range sensors approaching at high warp," T'Pol announced after her console flashed an audio warning. "Five light years away."

Travis, ever on the ball, announced immediately from his Helm station. "They're on a clear intercept vector, Captain."

Jon nodded. "Can you identify them, T'Pol?"

She stared into her Sensor scope briefly and arched a single eyebrow. "From the drive signature, I believe it to be Suliban, of a class we've not encountered before. Its mass, hull geometry, and minimal weapon signatures suggests it's a cargo ship."

"Cargo ship," Jon mused to himself. "What's their Intercept Time?"

"If we keep our relative speeds constant…four days."

"It seems the new sensors have no problems seeing through their stealth," Jon commented with satisfaction. He had really been getting tired of getting unannounced visits from ships with greater SCM capabilities, especially the Suliban. "The question now is why are they coming?"

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Malcolm had narrowed down the energy signature location to one section of the mysterious chamber. On the wall in a recess was an odd patterning of lines that formed a vague rounded square and four small round circles within it. "I believe it's coming from behind this."

Trip shrugged and hesitantly touched one of the circles and was surprised when the hard alloy suddenly softened under the touch of his finger, he pushed harder and it depressed even further. It had had a vague feel of a button. He moved on to the other circles and pressed them too in a random order. Nothing happened.

He moved on to try other combinations. After ten tries with no results he thought, _'Dammit, open up already_.' He just about jumped out of his skin when suddenly the section of the wall in the recess seemed to 'grow' a seam, and retract down into the floor.

"I think this thing just read my mind."

"What?"

"I was distinctly thinking for the thing to open and it did…"

"Perhaps you just got lucky with the combination."

"Maybe." They looked into the recess to find some kind of box like device integrated into it. Trip found the first thing that looked like a 'button' on the inside and pressed down. Again nothing happened. He carefully thought, '_Let go._' And just like that the box device released its catches, and he had to hurriedly catch it before it fell to the floor.

"Okay, it definitely reads your mind. Let's get this to Engineering, see what we've got."

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The device now sat on a work bench in Engineering. Trip had managed to expose a forward panel to reveal slotted flat crystals that glowed with an inner blue light.

"It was heavily shielded. Whatever this thing is, it must be pretty important," Trip explained to both Jon and T'Pol. The Captain leaned down, squinting to see the extremely fine crystalline circuitry, and he could swear the light within was actually coming from a blue fluid that seemed to be flowing through it.

Jon looked up to his friend. "What's your guess?"

"Might be the black box, it could tell us what happened, maybe even who built the vessel. That's assuming we can get it working. It seems to use the same organic circuitry as the rest of the ship." Trip shook his head; his voice became positively brimming with awe. "Captain, I got to take you down into that chamber. You're not going to believe your eyes."

"Bigger on the inside?"

"Oh yes, it defies everything we know of physics, but it is."

"It seems we have a reason for the Suliban's approach, Captain." T'Pol stated.

"They want the ship and its technology, even a wreck anything advanced like that would be priceless to study."

'_Bridge to Captain Archer._'

Jon walked over to the com panel. "Go ahead, Travis."

"_Another ship just entered sensor range, sir. It's travelling at Warp seven on an intercept course, ETA, two and a half days. The Vulcan database identifies it as…Tholian. It doesn't say much more than the name, though."_

"T'Pol?"

She didn't hesitate. "They're extremely xenophobic. The High Command has had limited contact with them. Captain, it's unusual for Tholians to travel this far from their system."

"And I don't suppose they're just coming for a friendly visit, either," Jon remarked with sarcasm.

"_We're being hailed now as well, sir. Audio only."_

"Channel it down to engineering." There was a brief pause, then a beep followed by some slight static on the com line. "This is Captain Archer of the Starship…"

Screeching and whistling echoed from the line and Jon winced at its high pitch. It was then followed by English, which was clearly generated by computer. _"Jonathan Archer."_

He blinked in surprise that the Tholian knew his first name, but buried that question for a more proper one. "Is there something we can do for you?"

"_We were sent to retrieve the vessel."_

"I'd like to know how you heard about that ship."

The alien ignored the implied question. _"It is dangerous to you. Temporal radiation."_

"Thanks for the warning; does it belong to your species?"

"_Yes."_

T'Pol abruptly reached over to the com panel and muted the pickup. "Captain, the Tholian are a non-humanoid species. The chair…"

"I got it," Jon halted her and re-enabled the audio sensor. "I'm afraid I just caught you in a lie. That vessel can't belong to your race; it's clearly designed for humanoid lifeforms…"

Even higher pitched screeching interrupted him and the com line abruptly cut off.

"I doubt that was a compliment," Trip remarked.

Jon shook his head grimly. "I wonder if there's anyone _else _who thinks they have a claim on that ship. Get that black box working, T'Pol, you're with me."

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Their destination was an area of the _Enterprise_ that had acquired an almost mythic, mysterious status along the lines of the Bermuda Triangle amongst the crew.

Crewman Daniel's former quarters.

To anyone who didn't know of it, the place would look like any of the other two person crew quarters on board the ship. It was a small space, barely three meters by two, with two bunked beds to one side, two small desks with computer workstations, and four lockers. The first clue you had that this was not normal crew quarters was the powerful electromagnetic deadbolt fastened to the door.

Jon leaned down and tapped in his personal access code. The bolt instantly released its grip and he pulled it away.

"A database from the future?" T'Pol asked sceptically.

"Our time-travelling friend Daniels left it in his quarters," Jon walked over to one of the lockers and winced as he pushed his hand 'through' the door of the locker. His arm vanished into it bizarrely all the way up to his elbow. He felt around inside the compressed space and finally pulled out his arm to reveal an aquamarine coloured device no bigger than his hand.

Both T'Pol's eyebrows were raised, and for a Vulcan, that was equivalent of her jaw dropping to the floor of astonishment. "I doubt if Daniels would approve of this."

"We'll keep this to ourselves, nothing in any official reports." He sat down at one of the desks, whilst T'Pol pulled a chair over to sit next to him. The device powered up with a purple light and a large high definition holographic screen blossomed into being above it. The device also instantly began displaying exactly what he wanted, which made sense, given what Trip experienced in the mystery ship. It started to scroll through a gallery of what he thought of as 'Ships of the Line'.

All were unfamiliar until something that looked Vulcan popped up. "A Vulcan cruiser," T'Pol commented. "I don't recognize the configuration." It had elements of a Surak class as the main hull, but had three annular warp nacelles clustered near the aft end.

"That's because it hasn't been built yet," Jon pointed to the commissioning date. They continued looking through and Jon had to mightily resist the temptation to browse through future ships that clearly belonged to the Klingons. They finally started to see similar shaped ships to the one in the cargo bay, after he willed the device to scroll faster. Finally, it looked like they had a match. "There. I think that's it. Look at the commission date. That's almost nine hundred years from now. Daniels talked about historians from the future. People who travelled back to study the past. That could be what this pilot was doing."

"This says it's powered by a 'temporal displacement drive'."

"If the Suliban or Tholian get their hands on this, they'll take it apart," he switched off the device. "Perhaps gain technological insight they're not supposed to reach yet according to history. Changing the course of the entire Temporal Cold War."

"Assuming the vessel is from the future," T'Pol countered, "why haven't they retrieved it?"

"Space is big, T'Pol, add the fact that you have to scan entire Time periods of it, and that you and I agreed not to put this in the 'history books', then it's not surprising that the future has no idea that the ship is missing."

"Logic then suggests that we _should_ put it in the history books, to communicate with the future of our problem."

"Too risky," Jon shook his head. "The enemy factions would have access to it as well; and next thing we know, we're up to our eyeballs in Suliban and Tholian."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Hopefully we can find a way to securely contact them in the 'Black box', before we're intercepted."

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**October 2****4, 2152**, **Engineering, UES Enterprise**

Trip carefully scanned one of the crystals inside the Black Box. It was clear that the damage to the Time ship had caused some systemic failures inside the organo-fluidic power circuitry. There was no damage, but all its solid state 'circuit breakers' were flipped open. At least, he thought they were breakers. It was now merely a question of getting them closed so power could flow again.

"All right, let's start with the power grid."

"Assuming that _is_ the power grid. It boggles the mind, if you think about it." Reed quirked a grin, staring at his own scanner.

"What does?"

"That ship could be from the _thirty first century_. When I was young, I always wanted to build a time machine, see the future."

"You're probably the kind of person that jumps to the end of a book before you read it," Trip criticized.

"Don't tell me you've never wondered what it would be like," Reed scoffed. "How our mission will turn out."

"Wondering about the future and knowing it are two different things."

"If Daniels came here and offered you a chance to go to the thirty first century, you wouldn't take it?" Reed shook his head in amazement.

"Some things are better left a mystery."

Reed's tone was rather dry. "And you call yourself an explorer."

"Where's the fun in exploring if you know how it all turns out?" Trip uploaded his scans to the central computer, and snapped the scanner closed. "Hand me that micro-caliper." Malcolm did so as Trip began to slowly tweak the orientation of the breakers so that the organic conducting fluid could resume its flow unobstructed. "Suppose you could look into some future book and find out the name of the woman you're going to marry. Would you want to know it?"

"Absolutely. Think of all the awkward first dates I could avoid."

"Fine. So one day you meet Jane Doe. You go out a few times, and you pop the question. She says I do, and the two you live happily ever after."

Reed grinned his eyes dreamy, "Sounds perfect."

"Now," Trip's tone was sharp, "did you marry her for love, or because some book told you to?"

"If we're happily ever after, what difference does it make?" Reed shook his head, clearly not understanding, or caring. The last adjustment was made and all the crystals flared into life with blue light.

"Well, we've got power. Now we've got to figure out how to tap into these organic circuits."

"They're similar to the ones in the cockpit." Reed pointed out.

"We can try to replicate some, build an interface for it."

"Even if we could, to get our computer to talk to this thing might not be possible."

"This thing is probably built by our distant descendants, and the rules of basic machine logic remain the same, one is on, zero is off. We can work from that."

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**Sickbay, UES Enterprise**

Jon and T'Pol entered Phlox's medical domain to find the Denobulan staring intently at the main screen of his medical computer.

"Your call was urgent, Doctor."

"Ah, Captain, I've finished my forensic analysis of the interior of the ship, specifically the chair. I managed to find a few intact skin cells belonging to...the pilot."

"And?"

"The pilot is human...though decidedly not an ordinary one." Phlox tapped on the computer to highlight certain sections of the DNA structure graph it was displaying. "I found an unusual deviation in this nucleotide sequence. At first I thought I was looking at some kind of mutation, but there was something familiar about the chromosome structure, so I widened my search to include the interspecies database. This nucleotide sequence is _Vulcan_."

Jon could only stare at the screen, though considering the ship came from the future...

"This human, did he get that nucleotide sequence from an ancestor?"

"That's the only explanation that makes sense, given the DNA evidence," Phlox agreed. "At least one Vulcan ancestor further back than a great-grandparent. I also found genetic material belonging to several other species. This sequence is Terrelian. There's another I can't identify. I believe the individual who this skin cell belongs to is the result of several generations of interspecies breeding."

"Doctor, would it not require extensive medical intervention to produce offspring between a Vulcan and Human?" T'Pol queried.

"Certainly," agreed Phlox. "Reconciling the copper and iron based physiologies would take some doing, but it's not insurmountable with enough research. It would depend on whether the mother is Human or Vulcan. A Vulcan female would require the offspring to have dominant Vulcan traits, if she wishes to carry the baby with no complications. Or a balance could be achieved, I suppose, with an artificial womb."

"Thank you, Doctor." Jon nodded, looking rather introspective as he and T'Pol left.

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Phlox waited until his Captain and T'Pol was well away and into the Turbolift down the corridor before he locked the door to the Sickbay. He walked over to the Bioscanner tube, keyed it open and the variable bed zoomed out on its track. The tall 'human' man in a blue Starfleet jumpsuit abruptly sat up, his blue eyes intent, "Did they suspect anything?"

"No," Phlox soothed him with a wide smile.

The man ran a hand through his dark blonde hair that was rather oddly cut. "Good."

"Can I ask why you didn't just reveal yourself? The Captain is quite open-minded, if you explained..."

"I'm no Temporal Agent, Doctor, they're enabled and trained to handle a temporal incursion," the Historian shook his head. "It's bad enough I revealed myself to you. If my ship's medical systems hadn't been destroyed, I could've just waited for Reed and Tucker to finish what they're doing."

"I'm sure that whatever passes for authority in the future will understand you had no choice."

"I'll be damn lucky if I don't lose my License," groused the Historian. "If the Integrity Commission is feeling particularly vindictive they could even..." He stopped speaking abruptly and shuddered visibly. "Thank you for the help, Doctor Phlox. It was an honour to meet you. And for the love of everything, don't speak of this as long as you live. Oh, do try to 'lose' the medical supplies you used to treat me."

"You have my word as a physician," nodded Phlox solemnly. "And I know how to cover my tracks very well if so inclined."

"Good." The Historian simply vanished with a slight ripple effect of light and was gone.

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**Bridge, UES Enterprise**

The ship was now on a new course at a speed of Warp five point eight, that would hopefully end up solving the Tholian and Suliban problem or at least ameliorate it. Trip had come up with the idea. _'We've got two bullies who want our lunch. So we just run in such a way that they'll bump into each other. Neither wants to share, so naturally they'll fight._'

However, now there was a whole new problem with keeping the Timeship on _Enterprise_.

Trip explained. "It was the weirdest thing. When we were standing next to the ship, doing an analysis of the internal circuitry and it felt like we were having the same conversation over and over again."

Phlox hovered his medical scanner over both Malcolm and Trip. "I can't find anything wrong with either of you."

Reed's tone was insistent. "We didn't imagine what happened."

"Captain, the craft has begun emitting some type of high-energy particles I've never encountered before," T'Pol reported from her station. "Neither Starfleet or Vulcan databases can make identify it; the Odyssey database identifies it as...'chronotons'."

Jon nodded, as the word morphology made sense, though he winced at how the word sounded. "This may be the temporal radiation the Tholians warned us about."

"We've spent a fair amount of time around that ship," Reed said significantly.

Phlox looked over T'Pol shoulder at the sensor readout."The particle density's quite low. It's unlikely to have any lasting effects."

Trip sighed in relief, "How do you explain what happened?"

"The radiation could have affected your perception of time," T'Pol reasoned.

"Or maybe they really were reliving the same moment." Jon countered. "Seal off Launch bay two and evacuate the surrounding sections. I don't want to take any chances. How are you coming with the black box?"

"The power is online, we've got an interface going, but accessing the data in an understandable format is taking time," Trip replied with a weary, tired sigh.

"Well, don't let me keep you. The bad guys are getting closer with every second."

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**October 27, 2152**

**System Designated 20 Eridani B**

It was an utterly unremarkable system, five uninhabitable planets surrounding a B type star. The fourth was a gas giant with nearly three dozen moons surrounding it in a complex gravitational dance. It was also a mess of various radiations. There was a flash of continuum distortion and from it emerged a dart shaped triangular vessel of roughly fifty meters in size, with a bronzed hull and four glowing propulsion emitters. Pilot Loskene, the single Tholian inside its comfortable two hundred and seven degree environment scanned the system and found that his quarry had come out of warp here and their impulse wake led right through the radiation belt surrounding the gas giant.

Either the humans had gone in there to hide or they had simply gone straight through. More than likely it was the former. There would no point to the second scenario, as the pilot could simply go around the gas giant's gravitational influence and pick up their warp trail in subspace there. It could also be that the humans were setting a trap or ambush of some sort. It would be a foolish gesture.

Loskene's sensors lit up at that point; there was another continuum distortion which disgorged a Suliban ship. It was quite large, with yellow-brown hulled modules slotted into a central spine that tapered into an enlarged prow, with its warp nacelles and impulse drives on the other end. Loskene screeched to himself in annoyance.

_What do they think they are doing? I could easily blast them to atoms in that cargo ship._

He was in a fully rated combat vessel of the Tholian Assembly, and the Suliban puppets were in a ship that barely had what the pilot would define as shields. He guided his own ship on a new course that would allow for a full scan around the gas giant's interference. His superiors would be really unhappy with him if he couldn't obtain the Timeship. It would be a real boon to their research into trans-universal sciences and even better it would be a real blow to the Federation's Temporal Agents; whose meddling the Tholian Assembly would no longer stand for.

Loskene raised his own shields and contemptuously manoeuvred within the weapons range of the cargo ship, daring it to attack. He carefully looked at his sensors, monitoring the weapons of the Suliban. The instant they fed even so much an erg of power into their capacitors, he would know and then that would be the end of it. He toyed with the idea of simply disabling their power systems and going on to claim his prize, but his superiors would see that as being weak and a message needed to also be sent to the mysterious, enigmatic and ruthless Suliban Benefactor.

It would truly be interesting to know who the being from the human twenty eighth century truly was.

At that moment, things changed.

One of the cargo ship's pods suddenly blossomed open and five combat Cell ships detached both from the ship and from each other. His sensors registered their energy profiles spiking and he wondered why his ship hadn't detected them in that pod.

_Not so toothless after all._

The five Cell ships accelerated after him and immediately sent their characteristic yellow particle beams streaming into space. His ship was hit twice, his shields shrugging off the damage with some effort and immediately sent particle beams in reply from his aft emitters. He also had to throw his ship into a wild series of evasives that didn't help his aim at all.

The Suliban suddenly split into five separate courses, four of which were to try and box him in, whilst the fifth ship raced off on an irregular course at full impulse. Loskene had no intention of just sitting in the middle of a shooting gauntlet, and changed course towards the lower right Cell ship, hammering it with particle fire as much as he possibly could. He was rewarded with the Suliban ship's shields crumpling and another beam sent the cell ship into oblivion.

The four remaining enemy ships used the opportunity though to send four particle beams into his dorsal shields, weakening them with a fair percentage. He needed to even the odds, and put his ship directly towards the gas giant, jinking and weaving erratically. The radiation reduced sensor resolution considerably and now the Suliban's particle beams went astray more often than not, and he could afford to shunt his auxiliary power into restoring some shield strength as he and his pursuers weaved between the various moons.

But the Suliban were rather persistent, their weapons were still nibbling away at his ship, and his own return fire wasn't making a dent. If he managed to land successive hits on a single ship, it would fall back to recharge its shield and its fellows would charge forward to take up the attack again.

The next strategy he used was to dive for one of the moons onto an exact course which would let gravity aid in his velocity. Loskene emerged from around the moon and for a few brief vital moments he wasn't being fired upon, nor could the Suliban see him. He triggered his aft emitters and fired five blue pulses of coherent radiation into his wake.

The eager Suliban followed him, thinking his gravity manoeuvre was just a tactic of retreat. The lead ship was caught by three of the radiation pulses, its shields couldn't keep out enough of the exotic energy and its internal systems were overloaded and disabled. It continued on its momentum, totally out of control until Loskene sent a particle beam blast into it. The pieces of the cell ship continued on their new individual trajectories, most of which would be pulled in by the gas giant.

The death dance among the moons resumed.

Loskene had no more auxiliary power left to replenish his shields and the three cell ships were again steadily wearing him down. He frantically tried to think of any idea which could bring the odds down, but was at a loss. The three Suliban on his tail were clearly experienced pilots themselves, and were covering a lot of the effective evasion angles with their fire. It was also clear that they were manually aiming those destructive beams.

He was rounding a gaseous moon and his shield strength down to thirty five percent when things changed considerably.

Rising out of the gas atmosphere five hundred kilometres behind them was the saucer-like human ship. It immediately opened fire with its own multiple particle cannons and anti-matter missiles in a massive strike which his sensors told him were amazingly potent. The trailing Suliban cell ship withered under the bombardment and was immolated in a bright flash of light.

The human ship accelerated after the Suliban and Loskene used the opportunity to finally turn and face his attackers with his forward shields and fresh weapon emitters. He focused on the cell ship closest to the moon and poured both particle and coherent radiation weapons fire into it. The human ship rather amazingly turned its own weapons on the remaining cell ship as if this had all been part of a plan. The Suliban ships lashed out frantically and Loskene got the shock of his life when he scanned and saw shields snap on around the human ship and bat aside the high yield particles.

Two more orange particle beams from the human ship hit its target and another glowing red anti-matter missile destroyed the Suliban cell ship. Loskene snapped himself away from his sensors and sent a particle beam from the forward array to destroy the last enemy ship.

The human ship flashed passed Loskene at half impulse and put itself on a new course incredibly fast, heading out of the radiation field and straight for the Suliban cargo ship. He found himself feeling rather envious of the pilot of that ship.

The ship was already firing off anti-matter missiles, which finally allowed him to get an idea of just how damn fast those things were. The Suliban had barely turned their cargo ship onto a new heading in retreat when the first missile reached them and detonated. The cargo ship was still there afterward, but its shields were all but gone and Loskene detected internal explosions.

That ship wasn't going anywhere.

The human ship, now out of the gas giant's radiation, swivelled and presented its forward profile directly towards him. Loskene hurriedly came to a relative stop and after a moment's consideration powered down his weapons and instead channelled all of it to recharging his beleaguered shields. He was again surprised when the humans opened a communication's channel to him.

"We have no quarrel with the Tholian Assembly or its people," the voice of Jonathan Archer, the infamous Captain of that ship resonated within his cockpit. "Nor do we wish to have one. In any case, the Time Ship is gone...we're lowering the shields around our launch bay and cargo bays...take a look."

Loskene bristled in anger at the nerve of the man, but nevertheless scanned the areas which the human had indicated.

'_You might be hiding it elsewhere in your ship,_' he fed into his translator.

"Fine, we're completely lowering the shield, but I warn you, our critical systems weapons are redundantly shielded...your coherent radiation will not disable them."

Loskene screeched in anger when he saw that the human was telling the truth.

"It's the funniest thing; we were repairing what we thought was the ship's emergency data recorders and then everything just disappeared at one point..." Archer began, but Loskene was not in the mood to listen to the human's sarcasm. He cut the communication channel and gunned his engines onto a new course that would allow him to leave via Warp. He did keep a sensor watch on what the human ship was doing.

He didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed when the Suliban cargo ship self-destructed. The Tholian's hated the Suliban probably just as much as Humans did, and anything that weakened the Suliban was good...but such an Intelligence coup in the hands of Humans did not sit well with him. It also angered him that now he owed his continued existence to them.

Loskene shrugged off such thoughts and put his ship into Warp.

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_A/N: Here's my holiday season's gift to you guys...an update. I wanted a longer chapter, but decided to end it here. I also wanted to write something with the Odyssey Six, but at this point in the storyline they're just doing routine stuff, training themselves and teaching others. I tried to do a Landry POV where he's reviewing the Sol Defense strategy but everything I did was yawn-worthy, so I just cut it out. I want to keep that a surprise for when their 'defenses' are actually needed ;-) _


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